


Prisms

by archaeopt3ris



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst with a Happy Ending, Astrophysics, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oikawa Tooru is a Mess, Oikawa Tooru's Knee Injury, Pining, Slow Burn, astrobiology, oisuga, other ships are v fast or in the background, they are all nerds, this is primarily oisuga
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2019-10-29 06:01:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17802386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archaeopt3ris/pseuds/archaeopt3ris
Summary: Oikawa Tooru attends one of the most prestigious universities in Japan and has the chance to study the subjects he loves,  from aliens to rocks, in a premier academic setting. Even more, he is about to be promoted to starting setter on his volleyball team as a sophomore, which is almost unheard of at a Division I school. He has a super chill roommate, plenty of party invitations, and all the success (both scholarly and athletic) he could ever imagine at at his fingertips, ready for him to reach out and take. No, Tooru doesn't need anyone else to guide him to prosperity or bring him happiness; he's gotten this far by himself... And Tooru *definitely* doesn't want anything to do with the stunningly kind, whip smart, silver-haired man whom he seems to find peering at him around every corner these days...Unless he’s on a volleyball court, Tooru has always managed best on his own. So, what is his problem? When did loneliness become such an all-consuming abyss that gets deeper and darker by the day?Or,A story in which Oikawa Tooru realizes that life, not just volleyball, is a team effort.





	1. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the beginning, there was... a sad boi.

_Today_

“Kou-chan!”

The name has barely left Tooru’s lips before he’s enveloped in a steady hug, silver strands tickling his cheek.

“I missed you so much, Tooru.” The tender words, spoken into the woolen fabric of his jacket collar, make Tooru’s heart squeeze.

Tooru sighs as reassuring hands smooth over his back. He feels tingly and warm everywhere, like he’s been dunked in a dilute capsaicin bath, a sensory experience singularly brought on by close proximity to the one and only Sugawara Koushi. He nuzzles into Koushi’s silky hair, relishing in the familiarly minty scent of his shampoo. Oh, how he’s missed Koushi’s soft touch, his sweet voice, his steady kindness, the chaos that constantly brews just below the ostensibly serene surface of his irises… anything and everything about him. How did Tooru ever get so lucky? What has he ever done to deserve such perfection of whim and wit? He draws Koushi in even closer, losing himself in the haze of overwhelming joy and relief from their reunion. He also might be crying, but who wouldn’t when they see their favorite person in the world after being apart for too long? Anyway, it fits with his chili pepper metaphor…

Tooru pulls back slightly and meets Koushi’s keen gaze. Tooru feels the delicate pressure of Koushi's fingertips travel up his arms and then trail to his cheeks, gingerly wiping away the tear tracks. Tooru reverently caresses his sides and breathes deeply, a beatific smile slipping onto his face **.** “Koushi, I feel more at ease than I have in three weeks but also my heart is going to explode! Though I’d die a happy man.”

Koushi giggles. “Mine also refuses to slow down. I think I’m high on your presence…" Koushi trails off and his eyes sparkle, golden in the winter sunlight. He deliberately rises onto his tip toes and cups Tooru’s chin with firm purpose (which makes Tooru more than a little breathless). Two sets of velvety lips meet, gently but surely melting into one another, finding bliss.  

Tooru thinks he might have ascended to heaven. He knows it is so cliché to call Koushi an angel because literally everyone does, but he can’t help thinking it. This ethereal creature, this downright wonder who is too good for mortal earth somehow wants to be with him, so where else could he possibly be but a paradise in an alternate plane of existence?

He can’t stop himself from smiling again, but Koushi's mouth matches his, and they pull apart slightly. With their foreheads still touching, Tooru whispers, “I love you so much, Koushi.”

“You are the magnetic north to my compass, Tooru.”

Now Tooru really feels sappy. “You’re Mars to my 2020 Rover.”

Koushi laughs.

“Ah, that didn’t sound as romantic as I meant it to be.” He blushes and looks down for a moment.

“No, it was cute!” Koushi squeezes his upper arms in support.

Tooru looks back up, sincerity and devotion gilding his features. “What I mean to say is you’re the most interesting, special person in my life and I really look forward to learning more about you and spending as much time as I can with you for the foreseeable future.”

Koushi’s eyes are saucer wide, and his mouth is slightly open. 

“I mean, how could I resist when you have a fossil delta system that would have been perfectly habitable a few billion years ago considering studies of its analogs on Earth…”

“I was about to cry and now I just think you’re in love with Mars!” But Koushi’s smile is back.

Tooru pokes him lightly in the stomach, and deepens his voice seductively. “I want to explore your Jezero crater.” He might also have slid his hand a little lower down Koushi’s back.

“Oh my god, Tooru.” Koushi laughs as a flush rosy as the dawn creeps down his neck.

Tooru’s eyes resoften as he watches his boyfriend descend into such an adorable state, caught between embarrassment and entertainment. It’s a miracle that Koushi usually finds his antics endearing. He frames Koushi’s face with his hands and says in barely more than a whisper, “Koushi, you mean everything to me. I’m so happy to be here with you.”

The pair stands rooted in place by love. Tooru thinks that Koushi is the most precious, shining jewel in existence. Koushi still can’t quite believe that Tooru, the brightest of all the stars in the sky, is his. Resplendent in their ardor, each the other’s own personal sun, Tooru and Koushi hardly notice the cold seeping into their bones because they never moved out of the doorway.

 

 

 

_Just over 2 years ago_

Tooru wakes up with pain splitting his head open and crust gluing his eyes shut. Everything hurts and he’s dying, which is certainly no hyperbole. He rolls over, moaning a little, right onto another person.

Great.

He shifts back to his initial position and his eyelids finally pry apart. Tooru blearily examines the other person, who is lying on his stomach with a pillow over his head, arm folded on top. At least he has nice biceps. Drunk Tooru has some standards after all.

He glances around, assessing his surroundings as utterly unfamiliar. Perfect, he thinks, he can just walk-of-shame on out of here before Mr. Arms comes back to consciousness and there will be no awkward fallout. He pulls himself to a sitting position and then rolls to his feet, wincing at the pain in his head and the soreness of his body. He shakily takes a step towards his clothes, which are strewn on the floor, hastily shucked and forgotten the night before. He dresses and opens the door as quietly as possible, but the other man still groans and rolls over. Tooru closes it before his head comes out from under the pillow. He stumbles down the hall, almost falls down the stairs, and sighs in relief once he gets to a familiar lobby. He’s still on his own campus, and at that, his dorm is only a few minutes away.

Tooru’s breath puffs opaquely in the frigid air. He checks his phone, squinting at the screen’s brightness, and finds that it is much earlier than he would have guessed, only 9:14 AM. He has a message from Akaashi from the night before telling him to be safe and a message from Iwaizumi reminding him about their scheduled phone call in the evening. He feels a pulse of gratitude for his two friends.

He turns his face to the sun and enjoys its meager warmth. This simple pleasure along with the words of care from Akaashi and Iwaizumi encourage the slight warmth on his face to sink a little deeper than the surface of his skin.

Soon his feet have taken him, mostly via autopilot, into his dormitory building and up a few flights of stairs. When he softly opens his door, he sees Akaashi at the stove, deftly flipping pancakes. The blender also grinds away, the noise of which makes Tooru wince and turn away. Akaashi flings a pointed glance over his shoulder and asks, “Fun night?”

“Of course.”

“Hmm.” He pauses. “Where did you wake up?”

“With a mans who had good biceps.”

“That’s always a plus.” The blender stops, and Akaashi pours some green sludge into a cup. “I made this for you. You look like you need it.”

“So sweet, Aka-chan,” Tooru attempts to singsong, but his voice breaks. He puts the glass to his lips and does his best to get some down, grimacing.

Tooru, unable to face his roommate anymore, retreats to the bathroom, the promise of hot water washing away his ills much more enticing than his half-empty glass of goo (however benign its intention). He manages not to throw up while removing his clothes or stepping into the shower, a veritable miracle. He looks down and winces at the fingertip bruises on his hips and the hickeys on his chest. Tooru leans his back against the wall and slides down, down, down until he's in a heap on the tiled floor. He wraps his arms around his legs and leans his face against his knees as flashes of the night before return: he’d been at some party with the goal of distracting himself. He’d had a few drinks and danced with a guy wearing skinny, black jeans and a tight, cerulean shirt (his favorite color). The man’s fashion sense in concert with his vice-grip arms and especially with his tongue piercing were very much enough for Tooru to ask to leave with him. Which he did…

Tooru bites his cheek until he tastes iron. The hookups feel so good in the moment; he gets physical contact and pleasure with no strings attached, passion with no overwhelming future commitments and no risk of heartbreak, no promises that will inevitably be broken and leave him reeling. Yes, he likes the feel of greedy fingers digging into his hips, mouths marking his milky skin. He likes it when people tell him he’s hot. He likes the temporary block on the past that comes in such heated moments, sweet release in more ways than one. But lately, the one night stands just make Tooru feel more empty. Sometimes the sex really is good, but his partners are never genuinely invested in his pleasure, in him… Just in his body.

But he’s not in it for the emotion anyway, right? In fact, he ditches people the moment they start getting attached; he avoids real relationships like the plague. So what is his problem? Why is it getting progressively harder to claw his way back out of the post-hookup abyss of loneliness? Unless he’s on a volleyball court, Tooru has always managed best on his own anyway. He doesn't want to rely on anyone because the people he loves or admires categorically hurt him by leaving, or… worse. He feels the pain he tries so hard to keep locked away rip out of his body in a razor sharp sob. His tears mix with the water raining down from the shower head while he ponders how long it’s been since he last cried. He can’t remember if it was the previous day or a couple of years ago.

He breathes deeply in an attempt to brush the emotions away and let the emptiness about which he was so upset moments ago replace them again, because surely it is a better alternative. He stands back up, shoulders shaking slightly, and proceeds through his usual shower ritual: he brushes his teeth, shampoos his hair, applies his favorite lavender conditioner and leaves it in for 5 minutes, and during the last minute uses face scrub. Next he washes his body with raspberry scented soap, and then uses his second, non-gritty cleanser that makes his skin cold and prickly. He turns his face into the torrent of water and holds his breath for as long as possible, and he feels more in control of his body, his thoughts…

Tooru finally admits defeat and takes a gasping breath as he turns off the shower. As he steps out of the stall, he really appreciates the soft caress of his fluffy towel that welcomes him back to the world of the dry. He kneels on the floor, eyes closed, forehead against the cabinet beneath his sink. Tooru is only roused to action when he realizes he never took out his contacts. Fuck, they’re probably permanently glued to his corneas. He takes a bottle from his immaculately organized shelf of toiletries and hair products and drips its contents directly into his eyes. The contacts both blessedly peel loose after a few inundations with saline solution.

He finally leaves the humidity of the bathroom and collapses onto his bed. He just lies there until the leftover water in his hair makes his head too cold for comfort. He throws on sweats and returns to the bathroom for a nice blow-dry. The warm, rushing air and the comb against his scalp are so relaxing that he gets lost in the sensation until his stomach gurgles uncomfortably. He can’t tell if it’s because he still needs to throw up or is rather famished.

In the mirror, he inventories the smattering of bruises on his body and grimaces. He definitely needs to put a shirt on before walking back into the kitchen or Akaashi will look at him with _that_ face...  

He puts on his favorite long-sleeve, soft and dark green with a variety of butterflies printed on the front. They are labelled with their scientific names and places of origin as if they were properly collected specimens. Tooru especially likes that a _Morpho menelaus_ features front and center. The species is one of his favorites; he visited a butterfly garden when he was little and was absolutely entranced by their iridescent blue wings.

He walks back to the kitchen and sees that Akaashi has set a plate of pancakes (chocolate chip and banana, his preferred variety) and the rest of his smoothie on their small table. His roommate himself is sitting on the couch, wrapped in his favorite red blanket with his nose in a book, but he immediately looks up, meet’s Tooru’s gaze, and asks, “Feeling any better?”

“Yes Mooom.” Tooru half complains, but he’s really grateful for Akaashi’s inquiry; he feels better when his roommate cares for him, though Tooru’s still loath to actually admit anything is wrong. He hopes Akaashi didn’t hear him crying in the shower because that would mean his question is about more than his hangover, and Tooru would rather pull off his own toenails than afflict Akaashi with knowledge of his increasingly frequent breakdowns. Akaashi has become Tooru’s closest friend at their university, but Tooru is sure he would drive him away if he brought up his less than ideal moments; who would want to hear about that? Furthermore, Akaashi has enough on his plate wrangling his mercurial boyfriend…

Speak of the devil, Tooru thinks, as Bokuto emerges from Akaashi’s room. He shuffles to the couch and drapes himself over Akaashi, cooing sleepily.

Upon looking over at Tooru, he remarks, “Dude, you look like you got shat out by a horse. The bags under your eyes are  _real baggy_.”

“Ew, Bo,” he whines as he wrinkles his nose.

“It’s the truth.” Oof. Tooru glowers and makes an agitated noise at Bokuto through his mouthful of pancake even though he also (inwardly) acknowledges the veracity of that statement. He probably does, as his favorite goon with hair gelled almost as much as his own (but of course done much less elegantly) put it, look like he got shat out by a horse. 

Bokuto, waking up more and more, offers some optimism. “But at least today is a rest day! No practice for us! Let’s do something fun!”

Tooru covers his ears to protect them from Bokuto’s loudness. Akaashi takes pity on him and rubs Bokuto's shoulder in a calming gesture. “That sounds good, Kou. Maybe we could go to the botanic garden?”

“Great idea, Keij!" He smacks at Akaashi with a pillow.

Akaashi gracefully dodges without even moving his hands from Bokuto's shoulders, then turns to Tooru and asks, “How about you, Oikawa? Would you join us?”

“I don’t want to intrude on your off-day time together, but thank you.”

“You wouldn't. I personally haven’t gotten to really talk to you outside of practice all week. Please join us.” When Bokuto nods fervently in agreement, Tooru finds himself saying he will come along.

 

            ***

 

A couple of languid hours later, Tooru, Akaashi, and Bokuto find themselves enclosed in swooping and reflective panels of glass that provide a welcome sanctuary from the brisk winter weather. Tooru’s verdant surroundings immediately relax him; contentment and sleepiness waft through the humid air and rustle through the plentiful collection of leaves.

They first amble through one of the tropical rain forest rooms filled with towering (for an indoor space) trees and bright flowers. However, Tooru is most drawn to a rock covered by an unassuming species of liverwort. He loves such early diverging lineages (of any class of organism, not just plants) because they often appear so _alien_ compared to their distant relatives that dominate the planet in the modern era.

He tugs on Akaashi’s sleeve and chatters, “Hornworts, liverworts, and mosses split off from the rest of plants pretty early on; they do not even have true conductive tissues! They look so different from, say, that palm tree over there. It’s honestly pretty crazy to even consider they belong to the same group of organisms, except I guess they’re all green most of the time. Even their life cycles are super divergent. The bryophytes,” he pauses and gestures eagerly at the small plants to his left, “have a life cycle that is dominated by tissue with only one copy of their genetic material per cell, while their diploid phase is totally dependent on it, rather than the other way around. Whereas the haploid phase of the palm tree is relegated to inside the seed.” Tooru stops talking and blushes, worried he’s boring his friends.

Akaashi just looks encouraging. “That’s really cool, Oikawa. I’d love to hear more about them.”

A wave of relief washes over Tooru. “Luckily for Aka-chan, I wrote a paper about these guys last year; I am a veritable wellspring of information!”

Bokuto, who has also been raptly listening to Tooru’s mini-lecture, says, “Oikawa, I can’t believe you remember so much from intro botany! I only held onto the stuff that relates to birds, haha.”

Tooru chirps, “Well, how could I let myself forget about anything that shares the coloring of a classic Martian?” Bokuto and Akaashi are both well aware of his appreciation of (obsession with) aliens by now, so he just acknowledges it freely around them.

Bokuto laughs. “You’re ridiculous.” Then his attention catches on something in the distance. “Guys, look at the flowers on this vine! I bet they’re pollinated by birds: red, tubular flowers are classic bird attraction characteristics.” Bokuto practically sings this fact in excitement, and Akaashi and Oikawa both smile with affection. Bokuto may not always be the most dedicated student, but things he likes stay in his head, and it's always interesting listening to whatever comes out of his mouth... Except maybe when he tells you that you look like you  _got shat out by a horse._  

As they walk through more of the rooms, Bokuto and Tooru do their best to recall every scrap of plant-related knowledge they’ve acquired and relay it to Akaashi, a pure mathematics and literature double major. True to his previous announcement, Bokuto mostly just remembers tidbits about birds, while Tooru covers general plant diversity. He is by no means an expert, but he’s at least familiar with all of the branches of the whole plant phylogeny **.**

Finally, they have worked their way back to the entrance room after exploring the entire left wing of the indoor garden. “Would you guys like to get some lunch? I am getting hungry,” says Akaashi as he starts to pull Bokuto down the path towards the in-conservatory café.

Bokuto quickly takes Akaashi by the hand and pulls him down the trail, exclaiming, “Brilliant, I am hungry enough to eat an ostrich!"

Tooru trails after them, wondering at their comfortable relationship, at how two so incredibly different people work so well together. They have not made him feel like and imposition or a third wheel at all this afternoon; in fact, after spending these easy hours with Bokuto and Akaashi outside of the dorm, he feels so much more at ease.  Nonetheless, Tooru keeps a small distance between himself and them so that they may have a moment of privacy.

The café’s walls are painted the color of Tooru’s favorite, key lime flavored yogurt. He chooses beef ramen and they sit near a window that looks into a temperate climate room. He feels comforted by the dark green of the spruce needles and stifles a compulsion to go breathe in their sharp scent. Such a temptation can wait until he’s done eating; he has some semblance of discipline after so many years of volleyball.

He jolts out of his forest focused reverie when Akaashi taps his shoulder. “Say hello to Kuroo, Yaku, and Suga,” he prompts.

He plasters on a bright grin. “Good afternoon,” he pauses when his vision catches on silver hair. “Oh, Refreshing-kun! Long time no see.” He cocks his head and locks on to the other man’s copper eyes. They have never said more than a couple words to each other in passing before, but Tooru definitely remembers his face, his deft hands, his frustratingly restorative demeanor... 

There are several beats of general confusion, and then Suga chuckles. “Hello, Oikawa-san. Please, call me Suga. Everyone does.”

“Alright, Suga-chan,” Tooru singsongs, unable to resist needling him a bit (he’s definitely not still sore about the last time he faced Suga on the court), which earns him an elbow to the stomach from Akaashi. Tooru carefully notes the increased tension in Suga's smile. 

Akaashi asks, “So, what brings you all to the botanical garden?”

“Probably about the same as you. We needed some stress relief and Kuroo suggested we come here,” says Yaku.

They all laugh at the allusion to Kuroo’s well documented obsession with plants.

“Hey, Bo and Oikawa are also bio nerds!” Kuroo responds, but he’s smiling too. 

Tooru feigns offense and yips, “I’m no nerd! I am as cool as they come!”

“Alright _alien boy_ ,” says Kuroo with a smirk.

“That’s a compliment!” he says petulantly. 

Kuroo, Yaku, and Suga sit down at their table while Tooru continues to squawk (mostly in gest) at the implication that he is as much of a nerd as Kuroo, who, in his humble opinion, is one of the _nerdiest nerds_ around.

Once they’ve all calmed down, Tooru turns back to Suga. “Why don’t you play volleyball on the university team, _Suga-chan_? You were a formidable opponent and we could use your ~refreshing~ presence. But _I_ am the starter; I don’t go down as easily as I did in high school.” His follow up stare is almost a challenge to the other setter.

Suga’s eyes crinkle slightly as he smiles. “I was never much of a match for you in terms of skills. But I do still play, just for the club team. I’ve never had any ambition to play professionally, and my course load doesn’t really leave me with enough free time to be on the varsity team anyway.”

Tooru is struck by Suga’s mellifluous, soft voice; it’s nothing like the airy tone Tooru typically employs to maintain his mask of cutesy bashfulness. Suga sounds genuinely sweet and considerate. Tooru’s initial bitterness against the silver-haired man melts away as quickly and easily as butter on toast. Momentarily, he feels disarmed by this gentle creature, who is being kind and diplomatic even though Tooru’s been nothing but rude and childish? Who is Suga? He smiles more honestly at him. “Suga-chan, do you know why I nicknamed you Refreshing-kun? Because your presence grounded and reinvigorated your teammates. It drove me nuts. But I’d be happy to have you fighting on my side now, I think.”

Suga blushes and runs his fingers through his hair, which still looks exactly like Tooru remembers it from high school, including the rogue lock that sticks straight up off the top of his head. Suga peers up at Tooru, through a fringe of delicate lashes, unblinking and silent, examining Tooru anew. Tooru feels slightly paralyzed; usually he is the one performing the intense analysis.

Finally Suga speaks. “Oikawa-san, thank you. That was a very nice thing to say.” 

“What keeps you away from our team?” He gestures to the rest of the people at the table, who are engrossed in their own conversation (Bokuto is saying ‘squid monster’ over and over and waving his arms around while Kuroo guffaws and Akaashi and Yaku observe, looking fondly embarrassed). “Other than this,” he adds with an eye roll.

“Well, I come to your games a lot, actually. I thought you just didn’t recognize me.” Suga looks down at his feet and Tooru’s smile slides off his face as he feels a shock of guilt.

He responds, rambling with an earnestness that surprises them both, “Oh, no, Suga-chan, believe me, you’re very memorable. I’m sorry to say I just never have noticed you in the stands. Please accept my apology.”

Suga looks back up at him, assuaged. “Don’t fret, Oikawa-san, it’s okay. I’d love to talk more with my old rival, if you want. You should join our dinner group! Yaku, Kuroo, Akaashi, and I all cook dinner together with a few others.”

“Wait, you’re in the dinner club with Aka-chan? I thought it was just a bunch of the Tokyo volleyball goons, so I never go.”

Suga giggles into his spoonful of ramen broth, which makes Tooru smile, while the rest of the table abandon their conversation and look over with mock-offense painting their features.

“Who you calling goon, Oikawa?” Says Kuroo, smirking.

“You, you feline lummox!” Tooru pulls down his lower left eyelid with his pointer finger and sticks out his tongue. “Thug! Goon! Brute!” He chants (yes, he’s much more mature than when he was in high school, thank you very much), earning a groan from Akaashi, snorts from Suga and Yaku, and a full laugh from Bokuto.

“Alright, paragon-of-an-overgrown-child,” responds Kuroo, who lightly kicks his shin under the table.

“Ow! That just proves your brutishness! I’ll never move again because of my broken leg!” Tooru pouts.

Kuroo coughs out, “Drama queen.”

Akaashi, ever practical and (once again) done with their antics, suggests, “Children, shall we wander through the plants some more if we are done eating? The garden closes in an hour and a half, and I’d like to learn about the rooms we have yet to visit.”

They all nod in agreement and clear their lunch debris. Kuroo walks beside Tooru as they enter the temperate forest room, and they are hit by the slightly spicy scent of conifer. Tooru breathes deeply and closes his eyes, doing his best to focus on the calmness induced by the familiar aroma. He opens his eyes when Kuroo, who has wandered over to a tree with long, thick needles, says, “Did you know that Sciadopitys appears in the fossil record in the mid-Triassic and was once pretty diverse, but the modern Umbrella Pine is the last survivor in the Sciadopityaceae?”

Tooru looks over at him, trying to recall all he knows about cone-bearing plants. “Yeah, Japan has a few species that have no close relatives and have been around a long time. Gingko is still around because people planted them around temples, and somehow they became a common street tree in the U.S., even though their fleshy seed coats, which aren’t fruits! they’re gymnosperms!” he pauses and waves his hands for emphasis while Kuroo laughs at his increasingly frantic rant, “smell absolutely terrible. Why would anyone ever plant a female Gingko in a city?”

“You make a strong case, Oikawa.”

“What is more, I think I’ve seen Gingko as an ingredient in some teas. Just ridiculous.” He giggles at this prospect.

Kuroo grins at him. “You’re a dork.”

“That’s rich, Mr. Sciadopitys.”

“Don’t bash my extensive knowledge of plant diversity and evolutionary history.”

Their banter is interrupted by the others, who want some guidance through the plant labyrinth beyond bird facts. Kuroo and Tooru oblige, though Kuroo ends up doing the majority of the lecturing. Tooru grudgingly recognizes Kuroo’s superior botanical knowledge base when he balks on the taxonomy of a giant lily pad (“It’s in Nymphaeales, the N of ‘ANA grade,’ the most basal flowering plants. Easy,” responds Kuroo with a goading smile at Tooru). Kuroo has definitely taken more plant sciences courses (compared to Tooru’s one, which isn’t hard to beat, admittedly) anyway, but Tooru still sticks out his tongue at the perpetually bed-headed man for the second time in the afternoon.

As they walk along the edge of the water-lily pond, Suga comes to Tooru’s side and lays a hand on his shoulder. Tooru startles, not very used to casual contact off the court, and Suga retracts his hand, which hovers uncomfortably in the air by Tooru’s side. Tooru doesn’t know how to make it less awkward, but before he can overthink everything and make a fool of himself, Suga says, “Oikawa-san, are you going to join us for dinner tomorrow night? You and Kuroo can keep teaching us about plants. It’s fun to listen, truly.” He finishes off with an illuminating smile that almost makes Tooru short circuit; he’s still unaccustomed to Suga’s soothing aura. Suga pats his shoulder twice before finally lowering his arm.

He comes back to himself, and responds, “I would love to, Suga-chan. Though my field of expertise is actually more the ~extraterrestrial~”

Suga gives Tooru an encouraging grin. “Oh, really? Cool! I study astrophysics!”

“Nice, Suga-chan! I want to be an astrobiologist, but we are on two sides of the same coin!”

“Well, we definitely should talk more about it at dinner! We really would love to have you.”

“Thank you, Suga-chan. I look forward to it.” He responds with a genuine but cautious smile.

Tooru is really trying to prevent the unconsciously generated thread of suspicion of Suga’s incredible good-naturedness from unravelling his otherwise strong sense of comfort. However, trust is not earned in one afternoon. Tooru can’t help but retract back into himself a little as a potent fear that any kindness (especially at the level of Suga’s) thrown his way will only be followed by painful betrayal pierces his chest, an ice cold dagger that twists to inflict maximum damage. He tries not to let the others notice his internal musings, offering sparkly, tinkling laughs at the right moments in conversation and superficial answers to any questions tossed his way.

It’s fifteen minutes from the botanical garden’s closing time when they all leave. The group makes their way back to campus, and Tooru and Akaashi split off from the rest when they reach their dorm building.

“See you tomorrow night, Oikawa-san and Akaashi!” Says Suga.

“Goodnight, Suga,” says Akaashi, while Tooru smiles as dazzlingly as he can manage and waves.

“That was fun, Aka-chan,” says Tooru when they are back in their room. “Thanks for bringing me.”

“I’m glad you had a good time, Oikawa. You seemed like you were having a rough morning.” With that statement, Akaashi pauses, seeming to debate what to say next. Tooru doesn’t say anything in the gap of silence and just waits for his roommate to continue. “It’s good to see you happy.”

“I’m always happy, Aka-chan.” Tooru keeps his voice light. 

Akaashi looks at him, eyes unreadable. “I’m always here if you want to talk to me.”

“Aka-chan is such a good roommate~”

Akaashi sighs. “So I overheard you tell Suga that you’ll finally come to our dinner club?”

“I guess I can deign to make an appearance.” He lifts his chin regally.

“Yes, princess Oikawa.”

“Finally using my proper title! Thank you.”

Akaashi ignores his declaration. “I can’t believe all it took to get you to go was learning Suga would be there. I didn’t think you were even friends. You’ve never mentioned him and Suga just said you used to be rivals. And I kind of thought you were about to fight him today for a moment...”

Tooru pretends to think for a moment. “I’m honestly looking forward to talking to him more. He’s tricksy. Also, I’m pretty sure he’s a space nerd.”

Akaashi contemplates his admittance for a moment. “Now that I think about it, you both might get along a little too well.”

“As they say, pretty setters stick together!”

Akaashi snorts, and pauses for emphasis. “But even knowing that Kuroo regularly comes wasn’t enough to make you to show up before.”

“Well, I haven’t seen Suga since high school, and I see the rest of you almost every day.”

“Whatever you say, Oikawa.” Akaashi thinks for a moment. “Also, we won’t make you cook for your first meal. You can just show up and eat.”

“And treating me like a princess too! Aka-chan is the best!” Tooru chirps, cheerfully birdlike.

Akaashi snorts at him. “On that note, I am going to head over to Bokuto’s. Text me if you need anything.”

“Have a fun and sexy time~” Tooru offers as Akaashi collects his overnight bag from his room.

“…” Akaashi blushes as he heads out the door.

           

            ***

 

Tooru is curled up on the couch with knees hugged to his chest, draped in the extra fluffy, raspberry red blanket. He’s watching _Ancient Aliens_ on his laptop _._ In his opinion, the show is a masterpiece of memery, though he sometimes pretends to endorse the presented theories to rattle people. But seven o’clock approaches, so he turns it off and calls Iwaizumi for their weekly talk. His spiky haired friend picks up on the second ring.

“Hello?” Iwaizumi’s voice is its usual extra-gruff.

“It’s me~” Tooru sings.

“I know, Trash-kawa.”

“Iwa-chan, rude!” It’s their typical opening speech pattern.

Iwaizumi sighs. “How are you doing, idiot?”

“Iwa-chan cares about me! I knew it!”

“Oi, did something happen? Akaashi texted me this morning saying you’d had a rough night.”

Tooru takes a couple beats to answer, and when he does, his voice is half an octave lower. “No, nothing big.” He definitely wasn’t crying in the shower that very morning, no. “I guess today didn’t start too well, but Akaashi made me pancakes when I got back and then we went to the botanical garden.”

“Akaashi is a good guy.” He stops for a moment. “Back from where?”

“Uh, running?”

“You don’t run in the morning ever.”

“Walking?”

“From where though?”

Tooru sighs. “Someone else’s room.”

“Oikawa…”

“I promise I am okay, Iwaizumi. I’m fine.” He refuses to let Iwaizumi see his frayed edges. Their phone calls are sparse already; he can’t lose them, too. Tooru needs him in his life in some regular capacity, and he would do anything to keep him there, including putting on a façade of happiness.

“Tooru, you can talk to me. I want you to tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong. There’s nothing to talk about.”

Iwaizumi takes a moment to respond. “Alright, Oikawa.” He sighs. “I hear you hit it off with Suga?”

“How does Iwa-chan know that already?”

“Akaashi and I talk about you, idiot. You already knew that.”

He’s honestly touched. “I care about you guys too!”

“Yes, we do care about you, Crap-kawa. Get it through your thick skull one of these days.”

“I’m feeling overloaded with joy~”

“I’d normally smack you about now.”

“Iwa-chan, that’s directly in opposition with your last statement!”

“Shut up. Tell me about Suga. He’s a fantastic guy. You better be nice to him.”

“I can’t shut up if I tell Iwa-chan about Suga!” Oh how the charm of riling up Iwaizumi never wears off. 

“Stop being a persnickety asshole!” He's reached the Danger Threshold. 

“How do you know Suga?” Tooru asks in a less provoking tone.

“His boyfriend and I go to school together, actually. Ennoshita is also studying to be a teacher. Suga visited earlier this semester and I hung out with them.”

“What a small world.”

“Yeah, volleyball players really stick together, I guess. But really, please be nice to Suga.”

“Iwa-chan doubts my civility!”

“Ass-kawa, I see through you like you’re window glass.”

“Well, Suga seems like he deserves respect anyway, so there’s no reason to worry. I think he’s into space.”

“Of course that’s his most redeeming quality to you? He’s also the single kindest person I know. Don’t take advantage of it.”

“I would never.”

A beat of resigned silence passes. “How’s Kuroo?”

“Floppy haired, always smirking cat-man is fine, I guess. He’s such a goon, though not more than you are, brute-supreme. But he does know a lot about plants…” He trails off.

“So he knows more about plants than you.”

“Iwa-chan, this is why I called you brute-supreme!”

“I’m just stating the facts.”

They banter on for a while more, enjoying each other’s familiar company.

           

            ***

 

When Tooru makes it to bed a few hours later he is relaxed and calm, the alpine scent of coniferous trees and the nourishing yellow-green of freshly emerged leaves still inundating his system. The crush of loneliness is much weaker than it had felt that morning. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao let's pretend that university in Japan is like university in the U.S. and that they function on the same seasonal schedules and that Tokyo is gets super cold in the winter :0 
> 
> Also safe sex! Safe sex! Dental dams and condoms always unless you literally look at tests!!! Tooru always has safe sex; he may be a mess in many ways, but he's thankfully STIs aren't part of that equation (but also erase the stigma around STIs-- they are usually super treatable and not something for which to ostracize people). 
> 
> This is my first fic! Lmk what you think! Thank you so much for getting through a chapter of my words!


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the sad boi had to deal with the pressure-cooker otherwise known as school

_Just over two years ago: the end of 3 rd semester_

“Hi Oikawa-kun, I’m glad you came!” It’s Yaku who greets him at the door, garbed in a pinstriped apron of blue and white. “Come in, we are just about ready!”

“Greetings, Yakkun!” Tooru chirps as he takes off his shoes and walks into the suite’s central space. He slings on a saccharine smile and plunks down into the empty seat between Suga and Kuroo. Akaashi and Bokuto as well as one of the managers from Fukurodani and two people he recognizes from the women’s volleyball team are seated around them.         

“Hello everyone~”      

Suga offers him a bright smile. “Hello!”          

“Hi, Suga-chan,” he says, lightly and airily.        

“You actually made it,” says Akaashi.            

“Yes I did, dear roommate. I never flake.”        

Kuroo coughs, “Right.”        

Tooru gives him an eye roll.        

Yaku lays out steaming plates of rice and baked fish. Tooru’s stomach rumbles; he hasn’t eaten since before his afternoon class.  

They scarf down the tasty meal in what seems to be the time between the wing beats of a hummingbird. “Solid cheffery,” says Bokuto, whose open and full mouth earns a glare from Yaku.

They all linger in the suite after, enjoying each other’s company. Tooru talks with Shirofuku briefly about being Bokuto’s starting setter, a conversation that the rest of the eaters join and, inevitably, devolves into the Tokyo crowd reminiscing about high school. Tooru thinks of Iwaizumi and the rest of his past teammates, and feels a pang of sadness. None of his former teammates had made it into his school, and months had passed since he had talked to most of his friends from home… At least he had one reason to look forward to winter break.

 It’s approaching 9:30, but Tooru decides to forsake his ridiculous pile of homework a little while longer when Suga beckons him over to the couch.

 “How are you doing, Oikawa-kun?”

 “I’m having a nice time, Suga-chan! The Tokyo goons were much more tolerable than I expected.”

 Suga laughs, but his eyes are open and observant. “I always have a good time with this crowd.”

They sit, smiling but staring at each other with for just a moment too long, until Tooru fixes on the drawing of Saturn that adorns Suga’s shirt. “So Suga-chan, you study astrophysics?”         

“Yes! I actually just joined a lab that studies galaxy formation in the early universe.”           

“Fancy, what does that entail?”           

“Oh, lots of astronomy. I figured that I should try something experimental and see how I like it before committing to theoretical things, though I am fairly sure that’s what I want to do.”           

“So Suga-chan likes math~”           

“Yes,” he chuckles, “do you?”           

“I dabble,” he responds with attempted humility. “I’m currently in linear, and I took multivar, diffeq, and mechanics last year.”          

“Oh cool, me too! I guess we weren’t in any of the same sections. Will you do any more math or physics in the future?”           

“Yeah! I’d like to do E & M, some quantum, and cosmology I think, and whatever other math I have time for. The only reason I’m not an actual physics major is because I realized it wouldn’t get me as close to my ultimate goal of studying aliens as I initially thought it would.”           

“Haha, I partially picked physics because lots of comic heroes and villains study it, and they sometimes meet aliens.” Suga blushes and runs his hand through his hair, though his gaze never breaks away from Tooru.           

Tooru’s smile widens. “Reasoning I can stand by.”           

“You do biology, right?”           

“I do~” 

“I can give you professor recommendations in physics if you tell me who is good in biology! I particularly love the ocean.”          

“For sure! You should check out the fossil record class; it was really fun. The first couple billion years of the evolution of life was in the ocean, and some weird stuff has gone down there.” He giggles at that thought.          

“I will definitely look into it! What are you taking next semester?”           

“Hmm. I think orgo 2, E & M, planetary geology, history of the earth, and a couple things in the humanities or maybe abstract algebra.”           

“Wait, really? I will also be in planetary geology and maybe earth history! And I took E & M and abstract last spring, so please let me know if you ever have any questions.”             

“Will do, Suga-chan! I’m really excited; the professor for planetary geo is going to be on NASA’s Mars 2020 Rover science team!”          

“That’s so cool!”           

“Right?”           

“Oikawa-kun, how do you take so many hard classes while also playing volleyball?”           

“I like to keep busy, I guess.” His grin strains slightly.           

Kuroo suddenly plops down between them, looking from one to the other. “So, you two know each other from high school?”           

“You might call us past rivals,” says Suga. 

“Does that mean you’re still rivals?” 

Suga looks Tooru up and down. “I don’t think so.”          

Tooru glances between them and, in turn, asks, “How does Suga-chan know the Tokyo players so well?”           

“Our coaches were close, so we did training camps together. You can thank us for making Karasuno good,” responds Kuroo.           

“Good enough to beat both of you…” Suga says in the most dulcet of tones.           

Tooru’s face slips into a something of a glower; the competitive embers have yet to blink out entirely, it would seem. He sticks out his tongue as Suga continues to smile.             

Kuroo also looks momentarily sour, but the expression passes quickly, transforming into something more mischievous. He glances at Tooru and then quickly turns back to Suga. “We should have a rematch sometime, Suga. Oikawa and me versus you and anyone else you want on your team.”           

“Oh, I am woefully behind you both now.” Suga’s delivery seems to emphasize his appreciation of Tooru’s and Kuroo’s skill rather than to purposefully belittle himself to evoke pity.          

“But it’d be _fun_ ,” insists Tooru, his eyes wide and unblinking.           

A pensive Suga takes a moment to ponder the situation. “I call Bokuto then.”

*******

Tooru gets through his pile of lab reports and problem sets around 3:00 AM.           

He’s awake again at 6:00 AM for morning lifting and practice. Then off to an Orgo I lecture at 9:00 (esters and epoxides can _screw off_ this early on a Monday morning). Cell physiology and biophysics at 10:00. Then five ‘free’ hours (which he spends sitting at his favorite window seat doing homework) until a linear algebra recitation at 4. Practice at 5. Home by 7:30, shower, dinner. He goes over his linear algebra problem set with some classmates from 9-10:30 (praised be professors who allow collaboration). Homework until the wee hours of the morning. Rinse and repeat. 

It’s a monotonous rhythm, punctuated only by the occasional blip of Netflix (how can he resist an episode or two of his favorite melodramatic period drama, _Gran Hotel,_ even at the cost of his own sleep?) or text from Iwaizumi.

Tooru decides he needs a break a few evenings later when he can no longer even tell which day of the week it is. He heads to the gym for some solo practice; he has two hours until closing time at midnight, and the gym is usually empty of others. Bless. 

Tooru excels at reading people on the court; he works his hardest during team practices (not to mention when he’s just out and about during the day) to maintain his analytical skills, to understand the natures of the people around him. But when he’s alone like this, he usually focuses on channeling the tension built up in his body to hit as viciously as he can; his spring coefficient is high and he is currently very compressed. He relishes in his red, stinging palm and the resounding smacks of the ball against the wooden floor. He serves, over and over, sometimes letting out a yell while in midair. 

Eventually he falls to his knees in utter exhaustion just before the gym is due to close. Some connective tissue twinges upon contact with the ground, but he ignores it. Beads of sweat drip to the floor and he follows them down, resting his forehead against the cool, varnished wood.

 

///

 

It’s Friday night, and suffice it to say Tooru is tired; Fridays are the worst day of his week schedule-wise. The hardest part of the day is his organic chemistry lab (four hours of torture because his lab partner is just an absolute mess all the time, not to mention that orgo labs are just so fucking tedious: one does a bunch of things, then sits there for half an hour (or more) waiting, decants some stuff, sticks it in the spectrophotometer and hopes desperately that one either has the right peaks or that the peaks are easily identifiable, and then cleans up the mess, etc.), but he decides he needs some of his _other_ source of relief. Luckily for him, apps make, uh, meeting up with people so easy, as simple as a five-element message (u up?).

He’s back in his own room by 1 AM (because he just can’t bring himself to sleep in the twin-xl bed with another person in it on this particular night) but can’t reach the sweet embrace of sleep until 3.

///

           

On Saturday night he decides to go out; an acquaintance is hosting a “reading period pre-game” party. The music pulses from a speaker across the central room of a hazy suite lit only by a strobe light. He’s grinding against someone, pulled in tight by the hands on his hips. Tooru runs his fingers through his hair and then trails them sensually back down his torso as he presses back against his dance partner, moving with him in time to the baseline. When lips brush his neck, he tilts his chin up and leans his head back onto a shoulder, savoring the shivers that run down his spine. He turns to face his dance partner and pulls their hips back together while maintaining eye contact.           

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” the other guy breathes.           

Tooru flutters his eyelashes and offers a coquettish smile.           

They leave shortly after.

Tooru gets back to his own room around 10 AM the next morning and lies in bed all day. When Akaashi asks what his plans are for the night, Tooru tells him he’s got too much homework to go to dinner. He falls asleep inventorying all the tasks he needs to do before daybreak, light still on and textbook draped across his chest.

 

///

 

Fuck, Tooru didn’t do his problem set. Shit, it’s due at 4 PM and it’s already 7:30 AM, and he has class from 9-12, and the damn things usually take many hours… Well, he’s already late to morning lifting, so he might as well just skip in order to finish it. Why didn’t he do any work this weekend? What was he even doing?

“Oikawa, you missed morning lifting.”           

“Sorry Coach, I didn’t wake up to my alarm and then realized I’d forgotten to do a problem set.”           

“Don’t let it happen again.”          

“I won’t, sir.” 

He can’t do his work on time, and he has so much to get through going into finals. He missed practice. He let down his team. He is no genius, neither on the court nor in the classroom, and he’s falling behind in both pursuits. He’s a damned failure. They were right…

Tooru squeezes the pillow over his ears, craving sensory deprivation. He wants silence. He wants the voice in his head that’s telling him he’s worthless to just shUT UP. SHUT UP! 

There is a knock on his door. “Oikawa? We are going to go get some tea if you’d like to join.”           

“I have too much work, Aka-chan. Sorry.” His buoyant tone grates against his ears.           

“Alright, see you later.”           

Tooru decides to go to the central library. Specifically, he wants the Absolute Quiet Room, his precious oasis of silence, his go-to facilitator of productivity.

Tooru sits at one of the empty tables in the back of the AQR and adjusts the rolling chair so that his elbows rest comfortably. He doesn’t put in headphones; no, he savors the general hush. The light rustle of pages and the urgent drag of pencils over paper are the only sounds around Tooru, neither clamorous enough to bother him, but both perceptible enough to remind him of his pressing need to finish assignments and study for the imminent exams awaiting him in a couple weeks.           

Finals are almost here. It’s almost winter break. He has to go home soon. He has to go _home_ soon. Shit. Shit. Shit.           

Blank and empty. Emotionless. Downright fucking phlegmatic. That is what he is.          

Chafing graphite pulls him back to reality and he continues alternating between practicing synthesis problems and writing an essay about cell-cell signal transduction during and directly after Venus flytrap prey capture. He stays hunched over the same desk, fully concentrated on his assignments, until the room closes six hours later.          

He makes a stop at the dining hall that remains open until 11:30 PM for some dinner. As he eats, he keeps studying because #thegrindneverstops. But at 11:15, an acquaintance from zoology sees him, and sits down. Tooru puts up the cutesy-bashful façade, and the acquaintance ends up telling him some gossipy drama about the Ecology and Evolutionary Biology faculty (which he’d normally eat up, and the fact that he feels exhausted listening to it speaks to his general level of exhaustion). Nonetheless, Tooru rests his chin on the backs of his hands, the image of attentiveness and innocence.

 

***

 

The fall volleyball season draws to a close during the last week of classes. They have some final scrimmages against other schools from Tokyo and win almost all of them, a positive sign for the spring season.           

His teammates and coaches congratulate him on a successful first semester as the starting setter. It feels good to be praised, but he doesn’t feel like he’s especially earned it this time around, even though they have a good match record thus far. Tooru feels that he could have been just a smidge more perceptive, a fraction more precise, a modicum more daring. Every hard-earned iota of skill and power helps the team that much more… He resolves to work even harder in the spring.           

Kuroo hugs him as they all part ways and tells him to keep in touch over winter break to trade weird facts.          

Suga, who had attended the final game with some of the other club-volleyball players, congratulates him with a lighted smile and wishes Tooru a happy winter break in case they don’t see each other before the end of exams.          

Yaku congratulates him on an excellent fall season, and tells him he should cook them all dinner sometime soon.           

Bokuto calls him “bro” and ruffles his hair (“Get your grubby mits _off!_ ” Delivered with an extra-pouty face).           

Akaashi pulls him back in the direction of their dorm, and Tooru can barely keep up a conversation with him because he is sooo lost in his thoughts and overwhelmed by the close physical contact with Kuroo.   

Tooru has been torn down too many times. He doesn’t need to subject himself to further ruin. Why else would he primarily have one night stands and toss people aside the moment they start to want more than his body from him?

Kuroo is hot; so solid and strong… And it pains Tooru to admit how sexy Kuroo’s hair is (especially when he compares their respective morning grooming rituals. One would think he would _hate_ such flagrant bed-head, but no, damn, he _really_ just wants to knot his hands into the already-bird’s-nested locks). And he’s funny and witty, one of a select few people Tooru knows who can captivate him with nearly every word or look. He likes that Kuroo can flip from goofy and ridiculous to focused and intense at the drop of a hat. He remembers the weird shit that Kuroo said the first time they met; it was the first day of summer practices for their college team. Kuroo asked him something about a famous show with a main character named Tooru and if he was as quirky as that alter ego… Upon reflection, the beginning of their banter was slightly underwhelming, but nonetheless, the memory makes Tooru smile.

Tooru’s not stupid. He knows they’re both attracted to each other, what with Kuroo’s behavior around him: how he always appears, ready to talk about whatever in an easy and natural rapport, and smiles (smirks) every time that they make eye contact, how he makes _physical_ contact with him outside the context of volleyball more than anyone else he knows… Tooru likes flirting with him. Kuroo keeps him on his toes; he plays Tooru’s game of constant character analysis with zeal. 

But Kuroo has a girlfriend; he is so off limits. Tooru’s heard Kuroo talk about this person in passing a few times, and he knows they’re long distance, but that’s about it. Also, Tooru neither needs any deep emotional ties, nor _wants_ any deep emotional ties. He’s done dealing with that particular brand of strain.           

 _But it’s nice_ his mind spits at him.           

No it’s not! They always hurt me!           

 _Not true_

Are you sure?! Remember the beginning of this semester? Almost dating someone whom he actually rather liked but being too scared to actually talk about his feelings for a long time and then being dropped over text for someone else after suggesting they should go on a walk around campus so he could finally confess? Or last spring? How terrible it was being left behind by someone who seemed so perfect? Damn, Itsuki was everything he wanted. Weird obsessions with specific topics, yoga practitioner (strong, calm, and flexible), kind, smart, tall… But it all came crashing down after they’d worked together on a cumulative lab project for a couple days, and Itsuki just said “Yeah, I think we would be friends if you were in my year.” What the hell? They held hands in the library! It had been the most meaningful physical contact he’d ever had, excluding a few particularly poignant hugs from Iwaizumi in his younger years. And then Tooru had to stay up all night cramming for a different final, and then after taking that final the next morning, _texted_ him a long and rambling message that alluded to his feelings (always a bad move, he has since realized), and Itsuki just wrote back <Yeah let’s grab coffee> and never followed up. And then a couple weeks later, after returning home and getting his wisdom teeth removed (and consequently being a little lost in the clouds), Tooru broke down in tears about it but couldn’t even talk to anyone about what he felt.          

And of course, further back, he’d maybe had a slight crush on Makki for a while, but he was *so* deep in the closet and he was terrified of wanting to do anything. His only attraction felt like poison running through his veins. Any time they were alone together he could never bring himself to say something, even though it seemed like maybe there was some reciprocation? It had hung over him, an opaque miasma of self-loathing and confusion. Now, those feelings have long since faded, but he still hates that he was too scared to do something. Not to mention he’d been doing his best to stifle _all_ of his feelings at that point anyway, which complicated his understanding of his desire for Makki even further. 

Tooru remembers the moment he realized he wasn’t straight: _It was in seventh grade; he had been sitting at lunch with his classmates. He looked over a couple of desks and, by chance, locked eyes with an acquaintance. His stomach fluttered and his pulse raced, just from that singular glance. His classmate was entrancing; his eyes were bright and he was always a good contributor to class discussions. What was this feeling? At that point, he couldn’t name it._

_A few days after the lunchroom incident (as he now thought of it), he was sitting on a friend’s living room floor. They were discussing who they wanted to date. Tooru usually just said the name of a girl who was conventionally beautiful to placate his peers because he didn’t have any actual crushes. Sure, he liked when girls fawned over him, but he never actually accepted any of their confessions. But in that moment, the face of his classmate whose gaze he’d caught at lunch popped into his head. No. No. What? He’s not… That couldn’t be what that was. He just wanted to be their good friend. He shoved it deep down._

_That classmate of his had left school a few months later due to a serious disease, and then switched to being homeschooled. Problem solved. Until the feelings came back for another…_

_And then he realized all the girls who had been fawning over him since middle school might have a purpose other than providing him with some superficial love and support: he could have a girlfriend. Or at least go on dates with girls. So he tried once, and after seeing a bad movie (that his date’s dad had driven them both to and from), refusing to hold hands during the movie, and then avoiding her at school all week (which was hard because he was on crutches because of a knee injury), he broke up with her in the elevator after she had insisted on carrying his stuff to the bus with the classic “I think we should go back to being friends.”_

_And another one felt she wasn’t receiving enough attention and that he was too focused on volleyball, so she left him after a month of “dates.”_

_And then the volleyball season got too intense so no, Dad, he didn’t have enough time for a girlfriend anymore…_

 

***

 

When reading period begins, all the students except the freshman (including Akaashi, the sucker) have some fun because exams are eight whole days away. Tooru flits between beds and parties during these few nights (because what better way to erase the memory of a firm embrace is there than alcohol and encountering other, firmer embraces?) and tea-meetups with classmates whom he has neglected socially during the semester and a couple meals with a very stressed Akaashi (who is experiencing his first bout of finals), until…

Exam period is naught but four days away. Tooru’s life becomes a near-sleepless blur of constant studying. They day before his first final (a three-hour zoology exam), he makes his now-quotidian journey to the library after grabbing tea from his favorite café and stays there until long after sundown, drawing the invert+vertebrate tree of life repeatedly and frantically reviewing the characteristics of major clades. 

Tooru’s finals schedule is brutal. All of his exams are clustered within four days, which happen to be the fourth-seventh days of the ten-day-long finals period (so he luckily gets several extra days to study without the distraction of nighttime activities _and_ has an excuse to stay on campus longer) with the hardest ones unfortunately falling on the seventh and eighth days.

He looks at the list of major assignments he wrote out at the beginning of the semester, in which each class’s assignments are written in different colors of marker and outlined in black pen to create fun-looking bubble letters.

 

READING PERIOD: December 1 - 10

EXAM PERIOD: December 11 - 20

Zoology in class final: 9 – 12, December 14

Cell Physiology and Biophysics final (research paper): due 5 PM December 15

Organic Chemistry I in class final: 2 – 5, December 16

Introduction to Painting: final critique, 9 – 12, December 17

Linear Algebra take home final: handed out 2 PM, December 12; due 5 PM, December 17

 

He flashes back to his first round of midterms: _he had been lying on the floor of the painting studio wrapped in his fleece blanket because the building’s heat shut off at midnight. Tears were rolling down his cheeks because he_ hated _his goddamn painting class and his linear algebra midterm was the hardest test he’s ever been given. His TA had quit a week before the midterm and his professor had initially cancelled it, but then he had un-cancelled it and changed it from a closed-note in-class to an open-note take-home test. And it was_ absolutely impossible _. He has to choose five of ten proofs to complete, and he had yet to actually finish one and it had been four days. It was due tomorrow. He was royally fucked. And he had this fucking painting to finish for tomorrow as well; his teacher wanted him to experiment more with abstraction, because, you know, “Abstraction is just so much more intellectual than representation.” Fucking bullshit. You can’t just skip over actual technique and art history! He loved art and had been so excited to take an intro painting class, but his teacher hadn’t even taught them the basics of color theory, much less anything about different schools and styles of painting, and just let them loose in the studio, and shamelessly, selfishly pushed them towards something they didn’t understand because she preferred it when creating her own art. Some students took advantage of her lack of instruction and preference for abstraction, offering gems such as, “I’ve included distortion in my portrait to emphasize culture’s obsession with symmetry,” when really, they didn’t want to put effort into painting an accurate portrait. Others, including Tooru, rebelled, though during crit, his professor only remarked on the “absurdist humor” that united all of the works he’d produced for the class and didn’t seem to pick up on the frustration underlying his often frenzied strokes of oil paint. So as he cried into his blanket in the frigid studio with an extremely stressful midterm and a terrible painting assignment hanging over him, doubly haunting spectres of suffering, he wondered if university could ever throw anything worse at him. Before linear, school had never made him feel dumb; it had always been rather calming to the point his studies became rather manic if he was especially stressed and unhappy. Now, his scholarly pursuits just added to his worries. And before this painting class, art had always been a meditative escape, a refulgent beacon of joy and calm in the stygian fog that was the rest of his life… but no longer. The simmering anger and feelings of inadequacy and stupidity extracted any lingering happiness from his bones, leaving him bleached and crumbling._

And now his linear algebra professor decided to make the second midterm (which had been a single shade easier than the first) and the final take-homes too. Tooru’s absolutely dreading the final, not to mention the slew of other in-class exams and the final painting project he has to turn in. And his Venus flytrap paper. Shit. Shit. Thinking about it all causes him so much anxiety that he wants to throw up. When was the last time he didn’t constantly have a migraine or feel physically ill unless he was taking a handful of pills? He can’t remember.   

Sometimes Tooru and Akaashi sit together in overwrought silence if they’re both studying in the apartment, but they don’t really have the time or energy for anything more. Tooru definitely doesn’t even have time to talk to Iwaizumi aside from the occasional five-minute check-in.  

At one point, after being awake for the forty-eight straight hours, Tooru’s walking towards a dining hall, pondering one of the proofs he’s trying to complete while trying to forget the Orgo exam he took a few hours before. But also his head hurts. It really hurts, even though he took three ibuprofen pills just two hours ago. Some girl who just walked by is staring at him. Oh. He had said that out loud. Yikes, he really needs to go to sleep, but this cursed final is due in a day.

Tooru has an atrocious selfie from around 6 AM after taking an hour nap on a couch in the STEM-dedicated library, with nearly closed eyes and bird’s nest hair. At least it’s not like last year, when he slept on a library couch the night _after he finished his finals_ because his previous roommate was having a meltdown.

He paints almost all of his painting final project the night before its due. He’d chosen a portrait of Eddie Redmayne, and had painted the barest set of guiding sepia lines, but had not gone any further. Tooru works all night with nary a break, and the paint is still very wet during the final crit. To be honest, he’s completed barely more than the underpainting, but hey, it looks lightly abstracted in this state... 

Tooru stares at his linear take home and says (out loud), “fuck it,” and sticks it in his professor’s mail box.

He returns to his apartment and promptly passes the fuck out. A disheveled Akaashi sits in the kitchen when Tooru wanders in for a glass of water uncountable hours later. 

“Hi roomie,” he ekes out in a gravelly voice. 

“Hey.” 

“How are you faring?” 

“I’m done at long last; just submitted my _Tale of Genji_ essay.” 

“Congrats on finishing your first semester!” The exclamation point in Tooru's head at the end of that sentence may be overstating the enthusiasm he manages to impart into his voice.

Tooru goes back to sleep a few minutes later, and wakes up again at 10. Akaashi, as rumpled as Tooru’s ever seen him, emerges half an hour after him. 

He and Akaashi decide to go out for a celebratory brunch. Tooru artfully gels his hair into its typical, fluffy splendor and dons a plaid pea coat, the most magnificent element of his sartorial collection, if he says so himself. Tan France would definitely approve of it, he’s sure… Akaashi un-bedraggles himself as best he can manage (to be fair, the poor sap has only had six hours of recovery sleep), and they walk ten minutes to a cute little hole in the wall.

Tooru orders eggs benedict (his favorite style of egg preparation) and it may or may not be the most delicious thing he’s ever eaten. Akaashi scarfs down an omelet faster than Tooru has ever seen him consume a meal before.

They then walk around the main green, pitying the students still studying (easily identifiable by their fast, frantic steps along the sidewalks that often terminate at the entrance to a library or a source of caffeine). Akaashi and Tooru say remarkably little, but the gentle quiescence is welcome compared to the oppressive, tense silence that had smothered their interactions during the past few weeks.

The roommates head home for a meal of all the random bits left in their refrigerator (and some mille-feuille from their favorite bakery for dessert) and a screening of _Edge of Tomorrow_ , Tooru’s favorite movie. The film’s plot is hole-free and provokes many emotions; it is definitely the magnum opus of Tom Cruise, the crowning jewel of Emily Blunt’s tremendous career (though _A Quiet Place_ comes close in level of excellence), and the be-all-end-all alien dystopia.

Akaashi offers Tooru a warm hug before they head to bed in case he doesn’t wake up in time to see Tooru off.  

And then some-odd hours later, Tooru’s on a train h o m e. 

Staring out the window, utterly unseeing, lost in the ministrations of the voice in his head telling him to hope for the best but expect the worst, the dread that has been building steadily for the last month of the semester pierces through his last refugia of calm.                                         

Nails digging into his palms, Tooru asks himself, how could this return be worse than this past semester?

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yike who would have ever thought that writing a thesis would take up all my time and I wouldn't update this for many months? Lmao that I had the audacity to even start this before spring semester and expect to work on it at all other than during winter break... But school is all wrapped up (for now) so extracurricular writing abounds!


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we glimpse some moments of Tooru's brief return to Miyagi.

A short chapter (~2000 words lmao). CW for a bit of a panic attack and a reference to past verbal abuse in the section bounded by five asterisks. If those subjects are triggering in any way, skip to a summary in the end notes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Two years ago: winter break_

 

 

 

 

 

_Spires of turbulent gray build into the endless sky_

_As shrapnel bolts tear asunder the landscape_

_And cold pelts down, destructive and merciless_

_A lone meadow full of chrysanthemums_

_And morning glories experiences the destruction,_

_All other life long withered away_

_Draggled blooms seize in the gusting torrents,_

_Petals all but ripped off,_

_Roots barely holding fast against the aeolian erosion_

_For nary an ancient behemoth of the strongest wood,_

_Much less a delicate spread of fall’s final blossoms,_

_Could stand against this onslaught and survive_

 

“Tooru!”

 

He snaps back into the mortal realm. “Iwa-chan!”

“I just said your name for a solid two minutes.”

“I was having a very pleasant day dream.” The image of the ravaged meadow haunts his mind’s eye.

“In the middle of our conversation.” Iwaizumi makes a grumpy face.

“Not everything’s about you, Iwa-chan~”

“We were reminiscing about my cat.”

“Oh. Sorry, Iwa-chan. Mitsy Paws was a wonderful being.” Tooru’s sincerely sorry for spacing out on his friend in a moment of vulnerability and sadness. He had loved the cat too; Tooru has many fond memories of soft fur and vibrating purrs calming him when he was upset.

“It’s okay, Trash-kawa. What were you thinking about? What has your head stuck in the clouds this time?”

“Do you remember the story about the boy who painted graphs onto chrysanthemum leaves and then created elixir of life from the water that washed said graphs off?”

“Uhh, can’t say I remember that.”

“Did Iwa-chan ever pay attention in literature class? We talked about it in our second year of high school.”

“Probably like once.”

“You’re literally pre-education and a Japanese literature/English literature double major.”

Iwaizumi smacks him in the stomach.

“Okay, Iwa-chan! I’ll _retell_ the story for you.” He says, just to be an asshole.

Iwaizumi gives him a Look.

Tooru rubs his stomach as he begins to speak. “Well, in the _Taiheiki_ , the medieval record of Japan that we _definitely_ read, it is said that a young servant at Emperor Mu’s court in China was exiled to the mountains for committing a crime. But Emperor Mu pitied him and gave the boy a bit of the Lotus Sutra, which, I might add, we have read many times,” (“I know _that_ , you dummy!”) “and the boy wrote it down on a chrysanthemum leaf, but dew washed away the characters overnight. He drank this liquid and lived, eternally youthful, for more than 700 years…” He trails off.

“Interesting.”

Tooru nods. He gathers his thoughts for a few moments, and his fingers twitch and twist together. “Do you think a source of water other than gentle condensation from the immediately-surrounding air would have led to the creation of an elixir of life, or would it have just straight up destroyed the chrysanthemums, not to mention the sacred words?”

Iwaizumi’s expression shifts. “Tooru, what are you talking about?”

“I don’t really know, Hajime.” He looks at his feet, which are bare, his toes curling into the carpet over and over. The fibers are soft and smooth against the rough skin of his soles. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

“Of course, Tooru.”

“Thank you.”

“You can take some of my PJs, too."         

“You’re too good a friend to me, Hajime.” He doesn’t have a lump in his throat.           

Iwaizumi rubs his shoulder. 

Tooru lies back onto Iwaizumi’s bed, and the pair rest quietly for a few minutes, silence covering them, a thick but comfortable blanket. An indeterminable period of time later, Iwaizumi’s mother comes to tell them that dinner is ready.

Iwaizumi’s parents are delightful to be around. They’ve always been so kind and welcoming to Tooru, so happy to have him for dinner or for a sleep over, so enjoyable to talk to. Iwaizumi’s father is so goofy, his mother so warm, and both are so caring. Tooru feels so fuzzy and peaceful, so bubbly, so at home at Iwaizumi’s house. Tooru’s so grateful that Iwaizumi is merely a five-minute bike ride down the road from his own house.

 

***

 

Pearlescent exhales momentarily stain the air around Tooru as he hikes towards his favorite copse of conifers: towering Cryptomerias that dwarf everything else around them. Tooru always cranes his neck and contemplates their monumentality when he visits, reflecting on the tradition of medieval Chinese literati landscape paintings in which the scale of the trees compared to humans is so accentuated. Tooru sometimes thinks he has wandered into an alternate dimension scaled like one of those paintings, for these giants make him feel so small and insignificant, an ant. These old-growth Cryptomerias’ size lends an aura of imperviousness to any threat; any hurricane would be hard-pressed to fell one (though, he reminds himself, nothing is impossible). Tooru admires their strength. Tooru wishes he were as strong, that he weren’t so easily squashed under the heels of his nightmares, no matter the hardness of his exterior.

A little farther up the hillside, Tooru can see the sky. There is minimal light pollution; he’s a couple miles into the forest behind his house. He comes here when he needs to be by himself and his room just won’t provide enough sequestration. Tooru sits at the base of one of the massive, mossy trunks or, if he wants a more expansive view, on top of the glacially-deposited boulder, gazing into the infinite depths of the night sky: the void between lucent pinpoints that would be filled with an uncountable quantity of more-distant stars and galaxies if he had better vision.

 

***

 

Makki, Mattsun, Iwaizumi, and Tooru are all seated on a couch in Mattsun’s basement.           

“…For I am a merciful lord, Iwa-chan~”           

“That doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as it does when Voldemort proclaims it to the masses.”           

“I think it does just fine.”           

“I don’t think you quite used the right intonation. You can’t speak like there’s a tilde at the end of the sentence.”           

“I can, and I _will_.”          

“People won’t think you very lordly.”           

Tooru gives them all his most intense, dead eyed stare, but it has long-since lost its effect. The others just laugh at him.  

Tooru remembers that he only has 8 more days until he goes back to school. In moments such as this one he’s sad that he has to leave his friends (though they’re actually all going back before him: they are all leaving a within the next few days, and Iwaizumi even must leave tomorrow). Makki, Mattsun, and Iwaizumi are still the standard against which he judges other humans. He feels so lucky to have high school friends with whom he is still so close and who have brought him so much joy and compassion during the years he’s known them. 

Iwaizumi drives him home. They sit quietly in Tooru’s driveway; Tooru’s not ready to say goodbye to his best friend. 

Iwaizumi breaks the silence. “Call me any time, alright?” 

“Thanks, Hajime. Same goes for you.” He glances over at his friend’s face. Iwaizumi’s expression can only be described with the word ‘intense.’ 

“Let me walk you inside.” 

Tooru nods. They shuffle up the stone walkway until they stand at the foot of the steps up to Tooru’s front door.   

Tooru shifts back and forth on the balls of his feet, gaze cast down because he is unwilling to look up and meet Iwaizumi’s eyes just yet, and offers, “I hope your semester goes well.”

“Please, don’t work yourself into the ground, Tooru. And I’m always just a phone call away.”

“Mom, I’ll be fine…” He softly wines back, very halfheartedly. He finally looks Iwaizumi in the face, and his friend’s face is edged with concern. 

“I’ll miss you, you weasel.” 

“Louse.” Tooru almost feels okay enough to smile. 

Iwaizumi folds him into a hug. Tooru squeezes back, leans his chin against Iwaizumi’s broad shoulder, and wishes that this moment will never end, because Hajime is 1) wonderful and 2) the most stabilizing part of being at home. 

 

 

*****

           

Holed up in his room, Tooru can’t make himself stop listening to a certain song. He truly can’t bear the thought of taking it off repeat. Tooru needs the repetition to drown out any other sounds, to keep him focused, to let himself think clearly, to provoke some semblance of healthy emotion from him with its lamenting chords and lyrics imbued with yearning. And did he mention how much he can’t stand the thought of hearing the screaming going on downstairs? His sister and Takeru aren’t visiting and all his friends have already gone back to school so he’s stranded, alone, unable to do anything but cower upstairs as he’s usually done when the rage of his father isn’t directed at him.

           

So he lifts his shaking hands to his ears and pushes his headphones in more securely. Tooru focuses on the melody of the song, on the weight of his comforter that cocoons his entire body, on the imminent arrival of his departure date, on the fog over passing time that comes with the constant repetition of a single song. He wants to let these last couple of days go by in a haze of minimum self-awareness, to let the panic quaking through his veins abate into placid emptiness, because honestly, being a shell of an actual person seems like a better option than how he currently feels.

           

Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

           

*****

 

 

After the agonizing blur of his final days at home, he’s on a train to Tokyo. Tooru feels sickeningly relieved to be en route to school, to be abandoning his family in Miyagi. Abhorrent, guilt-laced calm spreads through him, from the tips of his toes to ends of his fingers, as he sinks further into his seat.

The train pulls smoothly into the next station and a familiar head of silver hair boards his coach and walks up the aisle, light blue luggage in tow, towards his row of seats.          

Tooru sighs as the soft timbre of the gentlest voice he’s heard in days, or perhaps ever, cascades over him. “Oikawa-kun, hi! May I sit with you?”           

Tooru really doesn’t feel like making eye contact with anyone just yet, but nonetheless, he slaps on his best ‘happy’ face, looks up, and says, “Of course, Suga-chan!” He waits for Suga to settle into his spot. “How was your break?” he asks politely.           

“It was lovely to see my family, friends, and my boyfriend, Chikara, for an extended amount of time. How about you?”           

“Similarly! Seeing everyone was great.” Tooru tries his best to inject actual enthusiasm into his voice. He’s usually a pretty convincing actor, but he feels so drained in this moment and under Suga’s discerning eye, he’s worried that his performance won’t hold up.          

Suga looks at him with a peculiar expression. “It must have been nice to see Iwaizumi after so long apart. I’ve actually spent some time with him since we all graduated high school; he’s in the same education program as Chikara. Though Chikara is a year younger.”           

“Oooh, Suga-chan the silver fox~”           

Suga punches him in the arm and it hurts so much more than he would ever have expected.           

“Ow, Suga-chan packs a punch!” As in Tooru honestly has tears forming at the corners of his eyes.          

“I don’t tolerate unoriginal _jabs._ See, if you’d remarked on anything other than the fact that my hair is grey and that I’m dating someone younger, I’d laugh with you,” Suga says ironically, because he is, in fact, laughing.           

“But that is such compelling fodder. It was too easy.” He’s feeling a little more up to banter, what with Suga’s sparkling eyes and radiant smile.           

“Exactly, too easy. I expect more creativity from you.”          

“Aw, Suga-chan thinks I’m creative!”           

Suga pats his shoulder. “Definitely.” 

Tooru, for once, can’t gauge the purpose of this word. Is he being nice? Is he making fun of him? Should he respond with a joke or a megawatt smile or a glower? He doesn’t know where to lead the conversation, much less his facial expression. Tooru’s eyelid twitches; Suga’s still just smiling at him, what the fuck. Tooru’s lost. He’s almost never lost like this with classmates. Why must Suga confound his understanding of his peers and undermine his belief that he can read anyone like an opened, large-print novel and subsequently provoke his desired reaction in mere minutes? Suga is just so fucking nice, surprisingly tricky, and frustratingly engaging in all of Tooru’s favorite ways, from banter to academic interests... Why can’t Tooru bring himself to really talk to him and to trust him, to try and be something more than Suga’s acquaintance with only superficial connections? Why can’t Tooru trust anyone, with the exception of Iwaizumi (though he still lies to him by omission, case in point: this break) and his sister (who’s also heard many a lie of omission), for that matter? Why can’t he ever be honest with anyone? Why does he hide behind a mask with such fervent desperation? Why can’t he trust himself to exist without his façade?           

Tooru knows the answer. But he likes posing rhetorical questions to himself about the aspects of his life that are, maybe, not so ideal and locking away that answer behind an impenetrable steel door ensconced deep in the recesses of his mind. Ignore an issue long enough and it will go away, right? 

Another touch to Tooru's shoulder guides him back to reality, in which Tooru finds himself trapped in the viscous amber of Suga’s eyes. 

“Oikawa-kun?”           

“Yes?”           

“I asked if you’d like one of the cookies I made.”           

“Oh. Thank you, yes please.” Yes, a cookie would be very welcome right about now. 

It’s chocolate chip with just the right ratio of crunchy outside to chewy inside, and Tooru melts like the velvety morsels contained in his sweet treat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief summary: Tooru has a minor panic attack in his room while listening to his parents yelling downstairs. 
> 
> Iwaizumi is a protective mama bear who just knows that his cub is having a rough go of things. He is a Good Friend.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sad boi kinda feels pretty happy and fluffy

 

 

 

 

_Just under 2 years ago: Spring semester of sophomore year_

 

_Monday, January 14_

 

Tooru spends the rest of the train ride back to Tokyo napping. It’s such a lulling ride; greenery whips by and wind whistles at the exact frequency that brings him to the realm of dreams. Suddenly he’s in a gusty meadow, which, he notes, consists solely of the seven autumnal grasses. He can’t seem to find his balance because the ground feels like it’s undulating beneath his feet, and he trips. His hands won’t come up from his sides, and he starts to panic, starts to think that he’ll crash down face first, but sturdy arms ensnare him and he comes to rest in a comforting embrace. The world stops shaking. He looks up to meet a bright gaze and a wave of happiness rushes through him.

He wakes with no memory of his dream other than a feeling of increased calm, like a ray of sunshine hitting a patch of his skin.

He walks along with Suga back to campus. 

“I’ll see you in class in a couple days, right? You said you’re taking History of the Earth and Planetary Geology?”

“Yep! I’ll definitely be in both of those.” Tooru winks at Suga.

“Well, until then!”

“Bye, Suga-chan~”

Tooru bounds up the stairs to his suite. He braces himself in the hallway and takes a breath before opening the door and singing, “Your prince has returned, Aka-chan!”

Akaashi snorts at Tooru’s arms flung out so ridiculously. 

“How was your break? Wait, I don’t want to know about all of the canoodling you and Bokuto did.”

Akaashi gives him some side eye. 

“Hey, I’m just being honest!”

Akaashi ignores his pouting. “You hungry?”

“Famished.” He’s only really eaten that cookie today. 

“Want to go grab some Thai food?” 

“Sounds delicious, dear roommate. I’ll just go drop off my things.” 

 

 

*** 

_Wednesday, January 16_

Tooru gets to Planetary Geology 15 minutes early on Wednesday morning, but he’s hardly the first person at the door. This class is rather popular (and mandatory for people majoring in geology). Suga has yet to arrive.

At 9:51, people stream from the room as a different class ends. Tooru snags a seat in the front row. He doesn’t put his stuff in the seat next to him to save it because he doesn’t care who sits there. Not even a little bit. Nope. 

“Morning, Oikawa!” Says a sunny voice as the (unsaved) seat beside him pulls out.

“Hi, Suga-chan~” He offers a toothy smile as he nudges his glasses up his nose. 

“How are you doing this morning?”

“Excellently. And you?” 

Suga lifts his latte in agreement. “I’m feeling really good about this semester.”

A tall woman with ringlet curls sets her laptop bag on the desk in the front of the room, and Tooru sits up as straight as he can. “That’s her!” He whispers excitedly to Suga, who grins at him. 

“Professor Lin in the flesh!”

“I’m so excited!”

Suga elbows him playfully in agreement and Tooru only stays in his chair by the virtue of the table leg, around which his own are hooked. 

She takes out her laptop and starts setting up the day’s lecture slides. Tooru and Suga practically vibrate with anticipation. 

The screen comes on to show an image of a lumpy, potato-shaped asteroid. And the words “Welcome to Planetary Geology.”

Professor Lin fiddles with a small microphone on her shirt, and says, “Good morning! My name is Doctor Lin Akiyo, and I will be your professor for the semester. I also have with me Ito Hikari, your graduate TA. Let’s get started! Does anyone know what this object is?”

Suga raises his hand, and she calls on him. “That’s Asteroid Itokawa.”

“Very good! Itokawa is a great starting point for this class because it is a lovely example of an interesting type of body called a rubble pile asteroid, and even more, Japan had a successful mission that collected samples from Itokawa’s surface. After I review the syllabus, we will do a mini case study of Itokawa to make this first class meeting fun.” 

~~~

“She’s so amazing!!!” Are the first words out of Suga’s mouth as they walk towards their next class. 

“I already adore her. Wow, her observation about the James Webb Telescope was hilarious!”

“Super cool that she specializes in Mars!”

“Even better, she assesses the past habitability of Mars! If there’s anyone who’s situated to find the first evidence of extraterrestrial life in this solar system, it’s her!” Tooru sways with adoration as he walks, and Suga giggles at him. 

“Aliens! Of course…” 

They arrive at their next destination with 5 minutes to spare and have to pick seats in the third row from the back (of only eight rows, but still). A bespectacled man in a plaid shirt and khakis stands at the front of the room, fiddling with a clicker. A TA passes out syllabi and a small packets of slides.

~~~

“I really like Professor Takahashi too; he seems so chill overall, but still really passionate about what he teaches,” says Suga. 

“For sure, for sure, it was even enjoyable listening to him go through the syllabus. Say, where are you off to?”

“I’m free until 2, so probably to get a snack. How about you?”

“E&M doesn't start until 1, so I’m also going to eat! Want to grab food with me?”

“Sure!”

“What is your favorite place to go?”

“Ooh, I’ve been meaning to go to the café inside the art museum. I hear they have delicious chai lattes.” 

“Suga-chan has great taste in caffeinated drinks~”

And Suga is absolutely right; the café’s chai is fantastic. As an added bonus, they have sooooo much homemade milk bread that Tooru pretends he’s about to faint. He has to mask goofy smiles when Suga looks truly concerned for a moment before understanding his dramatics and as he laughs when Tooru really lavishes in the decadence of his pastry. Tooru likes that Suga is willing enjoy the simple pleasure of a silly, sweet treat right along with him. It’s almost as good as Iwaizumi’s age old admonishment (“Dumbass, that stuff will rot the teeth right out of your skull!”) that used to come whenever Tooru ordered more than one milk bread in a sitting. 

 

***

_Sunday, January 20_

It’s Kuroo’s turn to cook for the dinner club. Tooru expected a chemistry major to have a better grasp on cooking, to be honest. Kuroo’s meal isn't bad but it’s nothing super stunning, so he turns to the person sitting next to him after wolfing down his food with no high level of consideration. 

“Suga-chan, how has your first weekend on campus been?” He enquires of his seating neighbor.

“Lovely, thanks! I went to a nice brunch with some friends and a couple little gatherings. It’s great being back. How about you?”

“Volleyball’s been great to return to, along with the night life!”

“Haha, so true.” 

Yaku grabs Suga’s attention and Tooru is left to survey the table.

Kuroo, who’s seated on his other side, smirks at Tooru and kicks his calf lightly. “I bet I know a weirder biology fact than you.” 

Tooru flutters his lashes and offers a saccharine smile. “Do you, now, Roo-chan?” he says softly, playfully, not one to back down from such a challenge. 

“Absolutely,” responds the cocky bastard. 

“Well, let’s hear it.” 

“You are familiar with orchids, right? You might recall from botany” (Tooru tosses him a sour look at the ‘might,’ which makes Kuroo’s smirk intensify) “that they’re super diverse in the forests of Asia, and that they have notoriously beautiful blooms that are super variable in morphology and pollination syndrome? Well, in Victorian England, women weren’t supposed to ever look at the flowers because, apparently, they look too much like genitalia so seeing them would obviously induce bouts of sexual insanity.” Kuroo pauses for dramatic effect, andTooru snorts.“But really, it was the men who were crazed by orchids; they were so obsessed that they would burn down swathes of forest that contained a species in order to ensure that they would be the only people who could own and propagate them. It’s actually really dark and twisted.” 

“Alright, that’s pretty weird, I will admit.” Tooru leans back with a look towards Suga, who’s now observing this exchange, and continues, “But picture this. You are on the bottom of a shallow sea about 550 million years ago. You’re composed exclusively of soft tissue, pretty gelatinous stuff. You look like an oblong pancake with radiating lines on your dorsal surface. You have no clear entrance or exit holes, but you aren’t really designed for filter feeding either, and your first discovered fossils were mistaken for abiotic features for many years. But, you, Dickinsonia, the peaceful and passive member of the Ediacaran biota, live happily at the bottom of the ocean doing whatever it was that you did, in harmony with the rest of the sea floor. Then the death knell for you tolls right before the Cambrian,” Tooru starts to giggle. And he can’t stop because the extinction of these creatures is just so ridiculous.

“B.. b.. because,” the words just won’t come out through his spasms of choking laughter. Kuroo is laughing at him and Suga looks vaguely concerned.

“Wo…msshhhh” he gasps the word into nonsense. It’s so hard to breathe, but in the best way; Tooru doesn’t remember the last time he laughed this hard. 

“Oikawa, oh my god,” says Kuroo.

“Worms! The worms did it!” He finally spits it out. A fair few tears are running down his cheeks. 

“What?” 

“The Ediacaran fauna went extinct because when worms evolved they ate them all, all of the ‘jelly bags,’ for lack of a better description. Imagine worms as these tunneling, dastardly demon creatures that immediately become the dominant predator because they can move and have mouths. What is more, people actually call this period _Wormworld_!”

“Wow.”

“I laugh every time I imagine a worm slowly tunneling towards me, but for a whole lineage of organisms, that was the end. The poor things, the gentle fauna of the Proterozoic, hopeless against their tubular nemeses.” 

“Pretty nuts, damn,” Kuroo concedes.

Kuroo and Tooru look to the other person sitting on the couch. “Suga-chan, whose fact was weirder? We need to know who won!” 

“Okay, they were both pretty weird…” He contemplates. “While the Victorian thing is very ridiculous, I think Oikawa wins.” He smiles conspiratorially at Tooru. “Oikawa’s creatures both live in the ocean and sound rather alien, and I am biased towards such things.” 

“Ugh, this is collusion between the space nerds. Not fair,” Kuroo complains.

Tooru gloats by sticking out his tongue and smiling sweetly, and Kuroo socks him in the shoulder as Suga laughs at them. 

 

***

_Wednesday, January 30_

Tooru sits with Suga at their routine post-Earth History meal. Almost every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday they get tea and a snack from one of the shops around campus. They chat or sit in companionable quiet, depending on their moods, until Tooru has to run to his next class, and it’s becoming one of Tooru’s favorite pieces of schedule. Between the grueling practices that the team’s been having to get back into shape after break, the steady increase in homework volume, and the beginning of labs, some time to just relax in the middle of the day is welcome. And Suga is consistently lovely company, Tooru admits to himself. Not once has he said something cruel, and Tooru maybe, kind of, just-a-little-bit trusts him. He hasn’t quite worked out how Suga works, but Tooru is starting to think that it’s okay if he’s not entirely prepared to destroy Suga with words at any given moment, that Suga’s friendship won’t lead him to pain. Not to mention Suga is a supreme nerd, especially when it comes to space stuff, which is fun.For instance, their current conversation would be positively embarrassing if he were having it with anyone else…

Tooru pouts, his bangs flopping over one of his eyes as he harrumphs. “Suga-chan, I can’t believe you don’t like _Slaughterhouse 5_! That’s absolute madness. It’s one of the classic alien-focused novels!”

“Vonnegut’s writing doesn’t do it for me, what can I say? Also, thinking about the way the aliens perceive time makes my head hurt.”

“But the points they bring up about the inevitability of events and how we should work on accepting our past, present, and future are really important. Also, I like the chaotic style!”

“Wait, you think that we should just let awful things happen without trying to stop them?”

“Well, when you put it like that, no…” 

Suga looks at him like he’s on the cusp of opening his mouth again. Tooru decides to change the subject because he dislikes their departure from a discussion about sci-fi books (yes, he’s calling _Slaughterhouse 5_ sci-fi) towards his outlook on life. Of course, the first thing that comes to mind are sweets. “Suga-chan, are you going to eat the rest of your cinnamon roll?”

“Go for it,” says Suga retroactively (Tooru’s already chewing with his eyes scrunched up in pleasure). 

As Tooru munches, Suga asks him, “How’s volleyball going?” 

“Pretty welllll. I feel like our team is really coming together.”

“You’ve got a formidable starting lineup and bench.” 

“Our group is pretty strong on the whole across all the years. And all the starters from my year, excluding me, have known each other for a long time.”

“Ah, the bonds of high school volleyball.” 

“Getting my fellow teammates to trust each other takes time, but right now they almost all already know each other. And we’ve been a group for a year and a half, which helps.” 

“I’ve also seen you play with Akaashi on the court too, almost like you're pulling from the Karasuno playbook…” Suga teases him.

Oikawa sticks out his tongue. 

“Do you miss Seijoh?”

“Of course I do, Suga-chan.” He looks down at his feet for a second. “Don’t you miss Karasuno?”

Suga puts a hand on Tooru’s shoulder. “Definitely. I left my boyfriend and closest companions behind to come here.”

“So no one else from Karasuno made it here either?”

“Yeah. And likewise from Seijoh, it sounds like?”

“No one from my year.” 

“I guess us Miyagi boys will have to stick together.” Suga looks at him softly from beneath a thick fringe of pewter eyelashes. 

“Definitely, Suga-chan.” Tooru suddenly feels a lump in his throat. Fuck. Get it together. “Say, Suga-chan, do you miss the woods as much as I do?”

“I fantasize about forests all the time.” Suga looks away wistfully.

“Do you want to go on a hike somewhere close by some weekend?”

“That would be fantastic, Oikawa. Let’s look at our schedules and figure it out.”

“Hmmm, I have games for the next four weekends but what about at the end of March?”

“I think that should work.”

“It’s a plan!” Tooru singsongs. 

 

***

_Saturday, February 2_

Man, does Tooru love it when things just fucking gel. He feels _on._ The team is _on._ He’s a master of manipulation, pulling on strings and making people dance in the exact way he wants. He feels ready for the official season to start, he feels fired up, he feels… genuinely really excited for the match even though Hajime isn't with him and he has a million tons of homework hanging over his head and _other stuff_ is still very much going on, but he’s farther away from it now. Yeah. It’s time to play and win.

The night before, Tooru shirked off an E&M problem set that’s due a bit sooner than he’d like to watch another recording of their opponents. It had been rather comforting staying up, legs pulled into his chest, as he stared at the computer screen into the late hours of the night. This team is a certainly a surmountable challenge. They have many strong players, including Bangs-kun, the setter from Shiratorizawa. But they have weaknesses, especially the stubbornness of the other setter to rely mostly on a single spiker (who is strong, it’s true, but not as strong as damned Ushiwaka) when they’re behind. Tooru is pretty confident he can take them down if he’s at the top of his game. 

They walk out onto the court to lots of cheering. Tooru, though he isn't the most senior member, gathers his teammates and stares at each of them with a light smile and fire burning in his eyes. He says the same thing he used to say to Seijoh, because _he’s in control_ and it makes them remember that they can _trust him_. And now Bokuto’s shouting as Kuroo eggs him on. _Good,_ he thinks, the more riled up Bokuto is at the beginning of the match, the better. Yaku looks ready to kick someone over. Perfect. Akaashi’s eyes are locked onto Bokuto. His senpai are slapping each other’s backs. The bench members are all cheering while their coach looks on from the sidelines with approval and expectations. 

The referee blows the whistle, and he’s thrumming when his hands touch the ball for the first time after a perfect receive by Kuroo. A nice, high toss bubbles into the air as he says “Bokkun!” and Bokuto slams it across the court, past Bangs-kun’s waiting block, who’d (wrongly, ha) expected a straight. 

~~~

People are mobbing him. His teammates are all piling onto him, screaming. Bokuto’s shirt is off and he’s waving it around his head while crowing about their victory. It’s total fucking chaos of the best kind. 

Also, he’s clinging to Kuroo. Like they’re really squeezing each other even though there’s this mob everywhere, and Kuroo’s arms feel stupidly good around Tooru’s waist. Yaku jumps on them, yelling, and they all topple over. Tooru grins down, maybe a teensy weensy bit predatorily, as he realizes he's currently straddling Kuroo (with Yaku right behind him, but whatever, minutia). Other teammates offer them hands a second later and the moment ends, but damn is he buzzing (and not only due to the volleyball match’s outcome). 

 

***

_Tuesday, February 5_

Fuck, has it been a long day. Tuesdays are really his worst day of the week: he has to miss afternoon practice because he has two labs back to back in the afternoon. He also has morning lifting and practice (which start at 6) and two classes, one of which is Orgo II. Curse scheduling and their absolute sadism. 

It’s the fourth week of school and the third week of lab meetings and Tooru’s really stressed (that stupid muscle in his shoulder that sometimes bothers him is awfully cramped all of the time now, even after he convinces (cajoles) someone from the team (Kuroo) into massaging it). The first round of midterms start next week and labs are ratcheting up in intensity. Thankfully, his orgo lab partner is actually really competent and cooperative. However, his E&M partner is sooooo bothersome. The guy thinks he’s a genius and brags about his past grades and his future aspirations all the time (which is a sign of deep academic insecurity and/or general ignorance of the behaviors of actual geniuses as far as Tooru can tell), but he does many calculations incorrectly and then somehow blames Tooru when he offers corrections. Tooru feels one of his eyebrows arch and his lips squinch* into a deep frown just from thinking about him. They had compared their results for their first lab report, and most of their answers were different. Tooru’s sure that he’d done his analyses right; he’s kind of a dab hand at Python, humble brag (but a truthful one, unlike his bothersome partner’s). Also, he remembers how magnetic fields work pretty clearly from high school physics even without his current lectures _and_ he’d stayed up for many hours perfecting this lab report. He’s sure his partner will get a pretty bad grade, which lifts his mood back up. It’s amazing how much a bit of bitter vindication makes him soar. The eventuality of knocking this idiot down a peg with his observations also keeps Tooru from pulling out any of his precious hair. The fact that he’s even contemplated doing so illustrates the awfulness of this person…

But History of the Earth lab had actually been fun; the grad TA who runs the show is a good teacher because she is able to make their exploration of various types of sedimentary rocks pretty engaging. Also, he didn't get an assigned partner and he’s happened to (gotten to) work with Suga during every meeting. Suga’s enthusiasm for the labs is absolutely contagious; he’s just so excited about discovering cool topics he really hadn’t ever thought about (“Oikawa, look at this ooid! I had no idea something like this could ever form from a combination of biotic and abiotic reactions!” and “Wow, physical processes on the earth’s surface are so neat; I’m usually not interested in stuff at this energy level!” ring in his ears). However, 6 total hours of lab in a row is a lot and Tooru’s exhausted, regardless of the presence of his class companion. 

After a long shower and a nice blow-drying of his hair, he snuggles up in bed, with… a text book and problem sets. Ugh. But, speaking of his bed, he hasn’t slept with a single person yet this semester, and he feels pretty okay about that. 

Tooru considers his current lack of desperation for intimate and physical contact with people. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Kuroo’s flirting with him so much, and he hasn’t mentioned his girlfriend since the middle of the previous semester (because of course Tooru is keeping track). Maybe they broke up. Maybe Kuroo’s single. Maybe Tooru shouldn’t get his hopes up, but he can’t help it. He feels… happy to be caught up in the world of tall boys with dark, messy hair and in the excitement of possible romance. It’s a welcome distraction from the intensity of classes, and it’s Kuroo. Kuroo Kuroo Kuroo. Who cares about his previous vow to swear off romance forever? He’s so dramatic sometimes. Besides, Kuroo isn't like those stupid other boys who broke his heart. 

 

***

 

_Friday, February 8_

On Friday, Akaashi knocks on Tooru’s door, and the call and response doesn’t follow their usual pattern. 

“Oikawa, would you like to come out with me, Bokuto, and Kuroo?” 

“Oh, that sounds fun, Aka-chan!” 

“We are meeting at Kuroo’s at 9 to pregame and leaving around 10.”

“Perf, I’ll be ready then~”

Tooru hops out of bed and heads to the bathroom to get ready. He fluffs up his hair with some mouse and 15 minutes of careful brushing. He puts in contacts, and, since he wants to look absolutely delectable, puts on mascara and eyeliner. He bats his eyelashes at himself in his mirror, and wow he looks _good_. He picks some skinny jeans and a pastel pink v-neck to wear along with his peacoat. 

Akaashi also has makeup on and Tooru makes him take a joint selfie because damn, Akaashi is beautiful. He says as much to his roommate, which elicits a blush (and a little smile). Tooru’s not always a heartless meanie; he knows how to make people smile too. 

Bokuto and Kuroo have a significant amount of alcohol on the table when Akaashi and Tooru arrive. 

“Hey, hey, hey, let’s do shots!” Says Bokuto as he smirks around the room, eyes lingering on Akaashi.

“Bokkun, count me in~” Singsongs Tooru, smiling cutely with his eyes almost closed, but not all the way— he wants to make sure Kuroo is watching him preen (and he is, excellent). 

His throat burns while he bites a lime wedge after taking a double shot of lemon vodka.

He’s then handed Bokuto’s and Kuroo’s ridiculous (but very strong, which is welcome) concoction of alcohols, including tequila, coconut juice, and… Bailey’s? Tooru wrinkles his nose, but Bokuto leers at him and Kuroo wiggles his eyebrows a bunch, and, huh, it’s actually not bad. He still pretends to retch and Kuroo practically honks because he laughs so hard. 

“We call that the tropical lactose-intolerant’s nightmare.”

Tooru snorts. “The what, Roo-chan?”

“It’s ingenious and delicious, and I will hear nothing else about it.”

Tooru rolls his eyes, hiding his smile because he will never admit that he kind of liked it. 

Akaashi, interestingly, suggests they play never-have-I-ever. 

Kuroo goes first. “Never have I ever consumed an edible.”

Tooru and Akaashi(!) put fingers down. “Aka-chan, how wild of you!” Tooru kids. 

Akaashi looks at him, expressionless. It’s his turn. “Never have I ever made out with someone in the stacks.”

“Not fair, Aka-chan! I thought I told you that in confidence.” Tooru pouts, feigning embarrassment, and flicks his gaze over to a certain bed-headed boy across from him. 

Kuroo’s looking at him, mirth flashing in his eyes.

It’s Tooru’s turn. “Never have I ever eaten a french fry in the last 8 years.” He looks around smugly as the others all put fingers down. 

“Never have I ever lost a game of slap-hand.” Bokuto looks much too proud. 

“Bokkun, what in the name of the precious, sacred orb** is that?”

“Let’s play so you can put a finger down!” He gives Tooru a challenging smirk as Akaashi shakes his head and Kuroo’s eyes go surprisingly wide. 

Tooru can’t resist, even though the other two’s reaction means he should be careful. “Fine.” He lifts his chin regally. 

“Alright alright!” Bokuto holds out a hand, palm down. “Stack your hand on top of mine.”

Tooru does so and Bokuto smacks his hand as hard as he can.

“Ow, Bo! Why?” 

“Now you go! First one to give up and pull their hands away loses.”

Tooru slaps Bokuto’s hand as hard as he can manage. Bokuto doesn't look that pained, and slaps right back (ouch, his ego kind of hurts because his serve is _killer_ but his slaps seem to be ineffectual). Fuck, that stings. Tooru makes it four more hits before a tear runs down his cheek and he shrieks in defeat. 

He glowers as his third finger goes down. He takes a shot as the penalty for losing the game (but it helps with his red hand). They switch to a card game and laugh and drink as the clock approaches 10, and then they’re walking out on the streets towards a bar waving a little rainbow flag above their door. 

The music pounds as they order cocktails. Akaashi’s whispering in Bokuto’s ear and they start dancing (dirty, Aka-chan~, Tooru thinks as he watches them). Tooru looks at Kuroo, winks, and heads to the dance floor himself. His plan is to dance with someone else so that either he can have some fun with a rando (he’s a little drunk already and wants to be grinding with someone tbh) or to get Kuroo jealous after he watches and for him to subsequently make a move (because Tooru really wants that someone with whom he dances to be Kuroo, but he’s going to force Kuroo to instigate anything between them because p o w e r. Tooru knows he’s close judging by how Kuroo was staring at him earlier). He doesn't even have to dance near Bokuto and Akaashi for an entire song before someone comes up to him. The man has flippy hair and circle glasses (an unorthodox choice of club accessorization, but Tooru’s not _not_ into it). Circle-kun grinds on him and Tooru whispers that he's a fun dancer in his ear. The guy sighs and moves his hips in the same syncopated rhythm as the music. Tooru nips his ear as hands lace into his hair. 

He risks a glance over at the bar and Kuroo isn’t looking at him. Tooru frowns and spins the other man around to face him. The same delicate hands that were just in his hair flit over his hips and Tooru’s breath hitches seductively, making Circle-kun’s eyes widen. Tooru asks if he can kiss him, and then their lips are pressed together and Circle-kun’s tongue is in his mouth.

Tooru stays with Circle-kun for only a few more songs, but as cute as he is, Kuroo’s attention doesn't seem to be caught and Tooru is getting frustrated. He goes back to the bar and orders another drink while he looks around (not urgently, he might add), and finally sees Kuroo dancing with Akaashi and Bokuto. Tooru sucks down his gin and tonic quickly and joins them. He sidles up to Akaashi, drapes an arm over his shoulder, and bats his eyelashes. Akaashi laughs at him and does the same back (a sign that he’s a bit drunk). Tooru’s elated. 

“How’s it going, Aka-chan?” He drawls.

“I should really be asking you that,” Akaashi says as he wiggles his eyebrows. 

Tooru giggles and looks at Kuroo, who’s smirking at him. He gives Kuroo a half-lidded smile as the next song comes on. They all start groovin’ and Tooru does his damnedest to dance as sexily as he can. Tooru runs a hand through his own hair, ensuring its continued fluffiness, and then runs said hand down his torso rather suggestively. Akaashi and Bokuto are making out again and Kuroo has his eyes closed and is bouncing to the beat with his arms in the air. Tooru frowns because no one witnessed his ~amazingly sexy~ moment. He’ll have to do it when Kuroo’s actually looking. He decides to head back to the fray with the hope that doing so will incur the proper jealousy in a certain someone and get Tooru what he wants.

He walks up to a guy with spiky hair (that looks nothing like Iwa-chan’s, definitely not, that’s not why he picked this person, ew) and gently knocks into the person and pretends to look surprised. Spiky-kun turns from his friends and looks him up and down before asking, “Want to dance?” 

Tooru smiles prettily, nods, and finds himself up against a muscular body. This is nice. His dance partner breathes teasingly against his neck, and wow does that feel good. He loves the feeling of little puffs ghosting over his vulnerable skin, the prelude to teeth biting in the same spot… 

He’s had a good few songs with Spiky-kun when he feels a different hand on his shoulder pull him out of his current predicament. Tooru opens his eyes in irritation, having momentarily forgot his original goal, but his eyes widen when he realizes who’s got him now, which causes him to smile like a wolf who’s fatally ambushed his ovine prey. 

Kuroo laughs. “Would you like another drink?”

“Definitely, Roo-chan~”

Tooru gets a White Russian because he’s a shameless, basic bitch (and he wants to show Kuroo the proper way to use Bailey’s) and Kuroo has the audacity to order a Blowjob. Well played. 

Then Kuroo’s leading him back to the dance floor. They’re not grinding, but Kuroo’s hands skim over his body and Tooru shivers. Tooru’s just a hair shorter than Kuroo, but rather than feeling any tinges of bitterness he looks up through his lashes and smiles in the seductive way that has never failed him before. Kuroo (at last!) puts his hands on Tooru’s hips and pulls him closer. 

“Is this okay?” Tooru hears in his ear.

“Yes,” he breathes. 

Kuroo teases him by putting his thigh between Tooru’s legs and Tooru grinds against it. It’s be a lie to say he wasn't slightly hard because damn this is really really hot and has he ever been so turned on in a sweaty club? Maybe, but those moments aren't right now, he reasons as he presses himself up further against Kuroo and scrapes his fingertips down his shoulder blades.

But all of a sudden Kuroo lets go and then Akaashi and Bokuto are yelling something at them over the music. Tooru feels like he's floating as they pull him out of the bar towards some house party to which Bokuto’s friend just invited them. 

Kuroo stays at frustratingly appropriate distances from him for the rest of the night, so Tooru makes out with one of the hot track and field boys and then someone he recognizes from his freshman classical mechanics lab. But he goes home alone regardless and tries to fall asleep without thinking to much about muscular thighs and messy hair. 

Tooru spends Saturday making ramen and being haunted by the hazy memories of dancing with Kuroo (and a profound dearth of texts said man). Distracting himself through cooking proves fruitless, not just because he didn't use any fruit in his recipe, so he invites over some acquaintances from Orgo to study. Curse chemistry majors, though. Especially ones who don’t text him when he wants them to. And midterms. Rats, he has Planetary Geology, History of the Earth, and Edo Art next week followed by Orgo II and E&M the week after… 

 

 

***

_Sunday, February 10_

<Hey Suga-chan! Want to study with me later?>

<That sounds great! Want to meet in the lobby of the Geology building at 4?>

<That’s one of my go-to spots, perfect!>

<See you then :o)>

~~~

Tooru sees Suga approaching the window-paneled front of the lobby and feels a rush of happiness. Suga walks through the doors, already smiling at him. Tooru flaps a hand in greeting. 

“Ya-ho, Suga-chan~” Tooru sings. 

“Hey, Oikawa! How goes the studying?” 

“I haven’t really started yet…” 

“In truth, neither have I.” Suga laughs. 

“Let’s get to it, then!”

“Oh, I brought you something.” Suga lays a packaged milk bread on the table. 

“Suga-chan!” Tooru doesn’t even know what to say, so he just stares up at his friend with wide eyes. 

“I saw it as I was picking up groceries earlier and thought of you,” Suga says.

They sit at the table and comb through their notes, page by page. Suga and Tooru are good study partners; they don’t specialize in the same fields and have different background bases of knowledge, but they have similarly quantitative and observation-heavy ways of viewing the world. And taking breaks with Suga is fun and reinvigorating… Dare he say _refreshing_ (but he’s rather happy about it this time around and also wouldn't say it out loud to Suga because, well, he’s past that now… Except the -chan will be eternal; dropping that now would be quitting, and Oikawa Tooru is _not_ a quitter). Suga first suggests a yoga break, and they eventually end up on the ground with their legs up against a wall for 10 minutes debating the merits of different types of tea. 

“Oolong is the best, Suga-chan! It vaguely sounds like my name and it is just the greatest flavor. No drink relaxes me more.” Oikawa looks over from the tips of his toes to Suga, who’s still got a lick of hair sticking up from his head even though they’re lying down. 

“Well you’ve never had a proper ginseng tea. Uncle Iroh was on the right track.” 

“Hmmm, I don’t think I've ever had a ginseng tea at all. But I could say the same for you about oolong!” Tooru reaches over and flicks Suga’s shoulder. 

“I think this calls for a tea taste-off sometime.”

“Suga-chan, so smart! I will absolutely convince you otherwise and you’ll see my superior taste in tea immediately.”

“Keep an open mind, Oikawa. You never know, ginseng might just be what you’ve been waiting for your whole life.” Suga sits up, leans over Tooru, and flicks him in the forehead before returning to his seat at the table. 

A little while later, Tooru can’t help himself. “Are we through the Paleozoic yet, Suga-chan? We should take another break!”

“I think we deserve another now regardless.” Suga smiles at him. “What should we do this time?”

Tooru thinks for a moment. “Do you know how to waltz, Suga-chan?”

“That’s the 1-2-3 one right?”

“Yup!”

“Then I kind of do.” Suga cocks his head curiously. “Where on earth did you pick up waltzing?”

“My grandmother taught me.”

“I’ve always thought you were really graceful.” Suga looks down at his own feet. Is Suga blushing a little? Tooru’s going to ignore that for now.

Tooru runs a hand through his hair. “Suga-chan thinks I'm elegant~” He chirps as he stands up. “Let me find a good song.”

He offers Suga his hand as the music starts to play from his laptop. “Would you like to lead or follow?” 

“You better lead because I haven’t done this in years.”

“You can trust me, Suga-chan. I’m a good leader.” 

Suga’s hand is warm and his skin is soft. It feels nice to hold, Tooru thinks. It’s even nicer when Suga puts his left hand on Tooru’s shoulder as Tooru wraps his own arm around Suga’s back. Tooru sways back and forth with the music to help Suga feel the rhythm, and then starts them off with the basic step. He walks them around the room slowly. Suga only trips a little, but they both laugh and smile. Dancing is so nice because it’s social rather than competitive. It’s a collaboration and a conversation that sparks an entirely different sort of happiness than winning a volleyball game or doing well on a test does. Dancing has never stressed Tooru out, not even once. 

Tooru laughs when Suga chirps in surprise as he twirls him around, and even more, Suga doesn't look like a bumbling beginner as he spins around with surprising coordination. For the final measures of the song, he attempts a double spin and a small dip, and Suga keeps in step, so when the song peters out Tooru finds himself looking down into Suga’s eyes from only a few inches away. Tooru smiles a pure smile, one that Iwaizumi would say has no ulterior motive. Suga grins back at him and rubs his shoulder and my, my is that soothing. Tooru actually likes the casual touch of the hand on his back; it doesn’t trigger his tense-up response at all. 

“That was lovely, Oikawa. You're a really good dancer.” Says Suga softly, eyes bright.

“So are you, Suga-chan,” he says as they straighten back up.

Tooru feels light as a feather as they finish up their studying and head to dinner club. Suga’s laugh bubbles up around him periodically and, truly, when has he felt more relaxed than right now since like last semester? Even though midterms are days away, he’s happy and calm, walking next to this ball of… He thinks 21 cm radiation from interstellar hydrogen is an apt item to use in his metaphor. While other people can’t see past Tooru’s dust clouds and atmosphere, Suga seems to know what he’s thinking beneath all of his usually-opaque walls. Aside from Hajime, his sister, and maybe Akaashi, no one except Suga knows him so well and makes him feel so… warm and fuzzy. Tooru smiles. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I'm coining this word to describe the setter pout face  
> **a volleyball. Note that Oikawa gives his hair and volleyballs the same qualifying adjective (which is nothing other than 'precious')


End file.
